The Prince of Snows
by moira2
Summary: Can Shigure save his city? Can Haru and Momiji escape from bloodthirsty rebels? Can Hatori save his daughter? And can Tohru find a way to free Yuki and Kyo? Book 3: Black Queen, White Queen, coming up.
1. Prologue

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Disclaimer: Fruits Basket is owned by Natsuki Takaya/HAKUSENSHA - TV TOKYO—you know, them guys. I just sorta, er, "borrowed" the characters, and practically every other element in this story. Please don't sue. It's not worth it, I assure you.

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The Prince of Snows

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Prologue

Evening fell upon the city with the lightness of a veil descending from the sky. In fact, for the inhabitants of the city, this was exactly what evening was: Yaori, Goddess of the Moon, awakening and spreading her dark veil over the earth, upon which she laid out her jewels and pearls and her silver hair comb, which was now floating dreamily above the city, filling the streets with a diffused light. Yaori was an ancient goddess, older than the reckoning of most of the city-dwellers. As deities went, she inspired fondness and a familiar sort of devotion, unlike the awed reverence reserved for Lord Akkan the Sun God, and when people gathered round for story-telling, Yaori and her adventures were traditional fare. 

But that night, the story about to be told in a small room of a small house at the very edge of the city was not about Yaori, or any of the deities for that matter.

"_Are?_ What's wrong, sweetheart? Can't sleep?"

"I'm not sleepy yet, Mother. I was looking at the moon. It's so pretty, isn't it?"

"Mmm. Lady Yaori certainly seems happy tonight. Well, since you're not sleepy yet, would you like to hear a story?"

"Oh yes! I'd love a story! Especially the one where Lady Yaori gets kidnapped by Lord Borukaru, who keeps forcing her to marry him, but she becomes friends with a swan, a frog and a pear tree and they help her escape and—"

Soft laughter. "But you already know that story. Too well, I think."

"Oh. That's because it's a nice story, but…hmm..." The little girl trailed off as she thought of a good story. Suddenly, her face brightened. "Mother, tell me about the Prince of Snows."

The young mother looked at her in surprise. "Where did you hear about that?"

"Jiro-san showed me a book today. It had a picture of a boy in it. He looked very handsome, but sad. Jiro-san said it was the Prince of Snows, and that everybody knew his story. Do you know it, Mother?"

Her mother nodded slowly. "Yes, I know it. But it's a very sad story, not like the ones about Lady Yaori. You might not like it at all."

The little girl gave it some thought then smiled brightly. "That's all right. You told me before that even sad things have something precious to give. I'd really like to hear the story. Please?"

The mother gazed at her daughter for a long moment. She reached out and picked up the small wrist resting on the coverlet, absently fingering the charm bracelet with its little animal charms, then sighed. "All right. Come lean against me and I'll tell you."

Long ago, so the mother began, there was a kingdom so rich and powerful and so large it covered the maps from end to end. Its walls were made of stone carved out of the mountains and wood from fragrant trees shipped in from the lands in the West. There were sprawling cities within its realm, with winding streets and bustling marketplaces and gleaming towers, but there were also forests and villages and rice fields. Two streams flowed on either side of largest city, coming together in a sparkling ribbon of a river, dotted with boats with colorful sails. People from faraway lands came to marvel at the sights—the golden-domed temples of Lord Akkan, the obsidian turrets of the Academy of Magic, the villages and orchards. And of course, the most wondrous of all, the royal palace itself.

The royal palace was everything that was grand and lovely, with its gardens and pagodas, and so immense it was almost a city in its own right. In the middle of this vast paradise was a tower so tall it was said that anyone who looked out its topmost window could see the entire kingdom laid out as a veritable banquet for the eyes. From this tower, the king stood at the window and surveyed all that he ruled.

It was golden age for the kingdom. The great wars were over, the various rebellions quelled, and peace had at last been achieved. People grew rich from trade, and many elected to enter the Academy and learn magic. It was said, however, that there was none so wise in ruling, so shrewd in matters of commerce and politics, and so strong in the ways of magic, as the king himself. In fact, the royal family, a fairly extensive clan by all accounts, prided itself on the fact that it bred not only rulers but magic-users as well, and had an entire order of mages all to itself.

A shadow, however, lay upon the kingdom. For many years, the king and queen were childless, and the throne had no heir. Finally, one bleak winter morning, the queen fled to the temple and threw herself before the altar of Lord Akkan, weeping and praying for a son. Sure enough, months later, there was heartfelt rejoicing in the kingdom when the queen gave birth to a son.

And never was there a child more blessed by the gods, or a prince more loved by his people!

A beautiful boy, was the prince. He was named Yuki, and mere days after he was born, people were already calling him the Prince of Snows, because his skin was as white as the snow his mother had fled into that hazy winter morning. As the years passed, his snow-white skin warmed to a pale ivory, and his hair deepened to the silvery lavender of a winter morning at the flush of dawn. His eyes, however, remained a deep violet, eyes that were warm and kind, but flashed cold and hard when he was angry, like amethysts in ice. As he grew older, it became evident that physical beauty was not the only gift the gods had given the young prince. Although it was not true that he was reading books that could boggle even the most senior mage at the Academy as soon as he was born, he did come close, learning how to read almost as soon as he could pull himself up on tottery legs. He was a thoughtful, quiet boy who preferred to listen more than he spoke, and, to the delight of his tutors, began methodically devouring the books in his father's library along with his primers and storybooks. It was not true that he was able to quote entire passages from the Book of Tenets moments after his birth; he did that at the age of four.

One would think that a boy with such a scholarly bent, who was quite content to sit underneath a tree with a book or putter around in the flower beds alongside the bemused royal gardeners, would be somewhat puny and given to sloth. The prince, however, proved once again to be a marvel. Sent by his father to learn the fighting arts from a retired army commander, Yuki quickly surpassed his peers and soon proved equal to boys twice his age who had been training for twice as long as he had. He would stand at one side and watch their teachers demonstrate move after move, or sit in a corner while the older boys sparred, watching every throw and parry and kick and thrust with an alert gaze, then proceed to execute the same moves so fluidly it would seem as if he had been studying them for years. When he started creating moves of his own, the old commander made a decision, took him aside and proceeded to train him himself so that, at the age of eight, the prince could wield sword, dagger and staff with lethal skill. Speed and strength lay within the small, slim body like a coiled snake.

Strong and handsome, intelligent and wise beyond his years, the prince drew people to him as easily as the sun melted away last winter's snow. His parents worshipped him, the aristocracy adored him, the servants doted on him, and even hardened soldiers treated him as a beloved little brother. Young ladies of noble families and princesses from foreign lands were begging their fathers to negotiate a betrothal to him when he was only five years old. The young misses in the city sighed as they watched him ride with his father and mother in the royal carriage, his thoughtful violet eyes peering out the window. With his solemnly courteous manner, shy smile and his careful way of listening to whoever was speaking to him, be it princess or peasant, the prince won hearts wherever he went. If he had a failing, it was his inability to wield magic as well as his father and clansmen did, but it didn't matter. Yuki enchanted as easily as he breathed.

Not all succumbed to his enchantment, however. As young as he was, the popular young prince had already earned his share of enemies. 

One of these was the brilliant mage, Ayame. At sixteen, Ayame was the most promising of the students at the Academy and would have been chosen, along with a few of the senior mages, to journey to the lands in the West and study magic there, if it weren't for the unfortunate accident of birth that made him a close cousin to the young prince. As it was, a week before the most anticipated moment of his life, Ayame was summoned by the king and ordered to tutor Yuki in the ways of magic, adding in meaningful tones that Ayame was also to act as guardian and surrogate big brother to the prince who, the king felt, was a bit too shy and solitary, isolated from the other children by his title and his remarkable beauty and intellect. Ayame, with his flamboyant manner and outrageous charm, could perhaps help the prince learn to act more like a little boy than a miniature adult. The young mage had no choice but to swallow his fury and bitter disappointment and stand aside as a hated rival took his place in the traveling party, while he himself stayed behind to play nanny to a spoiled brat who was, to Ayame's thinking, too dull and colorless to merit all the attention lavished upon him. Yuki, for his part, sensed at once his new guardian's animosity toward him, and in his icy, stubborn way when his own pride was ruffled, dug in his heels and refused to cooperate, much to the mage's frustration. You can imagine how magic lessons went with these two! Needless to say, the two boys managed to get along quite like siblings, although not as the king imagined they would—the mage treated the prince as an unwanted burden and a troublesome pest, and the prince treated the mage as a capricious tyrant and a contemptible fool. 

And then there was Akito.

Ah, Akito. Now there was one with darkness in his soul. Black-haired and painfully thin, with eyes the color of light dying in an empty room and a voice like silk gliding over steel, Akito was both the king's secret hope and his greatest despair. In the silent youth's veins ran the purest strains of royal blood, and the most grievous violation of everything that blood stood for.

Akito was the bastard son of the king. Now such things were not unheard of, in those days when kings reigned. But Akito was the product of a brief, illicit union between the king and a wandering woman, a member of the Forbidden Tribe. These were the lowest of the low, the filthy-blooded ones, a rag-tag band of vagrants and criminals. They were the stone-worshippers, the animal-lovers, the witches and the crazies, plucking at the hems of civilized society, scratching out a living by scavenging what they could from refuse heaps and stealing the rest. They lurked in the dark places of the kingdom, and no decent person would even consider associating himself with one of their kind.

But outside the cities, where the forests nestled at the foot of the mountains, the Forbidden Tribe grew strong enough to become a serious menace to the nearby villages. When the reports of pillaging and widespread banditry became too numerous to be ignored, the king rode out with his army, determined to see these vermin destroyed once and for all. Like a cleansing tide the king's army surged through the forest into the Forbidden Tribe's stronghold and crushed them utterly. 

That night, the king, flushed with victory and too much wine, staggered into his chamber and found a woman there waiting for him, clothed only in her long black hair. She came to him, lithe as a shadow, and by the time the king realized what she was, it was too late. The woman had vanished as if she had never been. The king searched everywhere, hunting down the wretched survivors of the Forbidden Tribe and forcing them to reveal the whereabouts of the woman, all in vain. Effort was made to keep the truth from the people, but in the dark, musty corners of the kingdom, whispering voices told of the king's terrible sin: He had broken the sacred oath. He had betrayed the thousand-year-old vow made by the very first king, his ancestor, and every king that came after, and sullied his blood with the blood of the forbidden people. According to the lore, for as long as the king remained true to the oath, the kingdom would be strong. But the king had betrayed the oath…and the whispers would trail off into fearful silence.

But the years passed and no dire catastrophe occurred to rend the kingdom from end to end. Tentatively, the king allowed himself to relax, thinking that nothing had come out of that muddled, shadow-filled night. Then one day, he looked out and found a small, thin boy standing there, looking lost amidst the lush beauty of the gardens. Nobody knew where he came from, but the king gazed into unfathomable gray eyes and knew, with a chill, who the boy was.

Perhaps he should have killed the boy then. Had him taken to the edge of the city and executed, or thrown him into the sea, or swung a sword at the scrawny neck, spilling the tainted blood all over the roses. Perhaps, if he had, he could have spared his people the horror of the punishment for a broken oath. But for all his faults, the king was unable to lift a hand to a defenseless child, and against the better judgment of history, the boy was taken in and given a place at the palace.

And so Akito lived an in-between life. He was the son of the king, but the queen could not abide the sight of him, and no member of the aristocracy would acknowledge him beyond a distant, frigid politeness. Neither was he a servant, and had he attempted to befriend them, he would have been met with sullen muttering and stony stares. For months, he would speak to no one except his father, but the king, after assuring himself that the boy was an ordinary human and not an avenging demon, desired nothing more than to pretend that Akito didn't exist. The poor lad wandered about the palace like a lost shade, shunned by everyone he met, hiding in the shadows and watching his family go on with their merry lives without a single thought to him. Eventually, one or two of the more tender-hearted servants took pity on him and offered a timid sort of companionship, but by then it was too late. Unrelenting solitude wrapped around the black-haired youth and turned his heart into ice. Until the end, he breathed not a word about his mother and where she was, and if he had ever chanced to speak to her again. Perhaps the only comfort Akito drew from the long, lonely years growing up in the palace was the knowledge that the king had no other son, and only the son of a king could inherit the throne. Sooner or later, his father would have no choice but to acknowledge him.

But then Yuki was born. Beautiful, gifted Yuki, the darling of all. In the glow of the young prince's enchantment, Akito was all but forgotten.

That was a lamentable mistake, one of many the king made in the matter of his first-born son. If only they had paid more attention to him! Perhaps if they had, they would have noticed the creeping malice in Akito's eyes, the coldness of his face, the chill in his smile. They would have noticed the dead birds that sometimes lay outside his window, the strange scrolls scattered across his table, filled with words written in a coarse, ancient tongue. They would have noted the peculiar way shadows seemed to follow him, even in broad daylight. Most of all, they would have noticed the many nights he would vanish from the palace, leaving no trace of his passing. 

And perhaps the king would not have mistaken Akito for an ordinary boy. Akito was far from ordinary. The blood of mage-rulers flowed in his veins, granting him powers that would have astonished his father, had he cared enough to find out. But Akito's powers were of a dark, vicious strain unknown to the royal mages at the Academy. It was the magic of the Forbidden Tribe, earth magic corrupted by evil and hate and a thirst for vengeance. It could have been that Akito's mother was a witch of great power, and she passed onto her son all her hatred and spite along with her dark sorcery. Keeping his abilities hidden from his family, Akito trained in the vile ways of the Forbidden Tribe, learned to summon demons and bend their wills according to his whim, and was initiated into the circle of forbidden magic with the blood from his first murder. He gathered to himself the scattered bands of the Forbidden Tribe, who were only too willing to follow him in return for the chance to avenge the massacre of their kin many years before, and forged himself an army the like of which had never been seen before in the kingdom—an army that moved in shadows, struck swiftly and killed mercilessly, then melted away again into the cracks and crannies of the city. But there were worse things than that. Defying every commandment against the summoning of the dark gods, Akito performed a secret, terrible rite and bound his soul to Mugon, the dark god of silence and most faithful servant of Lord Borukaru, the God of Death. How it must have amused him to observe the petty lords and ladies with their little games and shallow pursuits, oblivious to the danger growing right underneath their noses.

A shadow army at his command and an arch-demon enslaved by his will, and still Akito waited. He knew about the rivers of magic lying beneath the kingdom, damned up behind a thousand years of oppression and cruelty and remembered betrayal. He knew about the prophecy and the oath his father had broken. He knew—and bided his time.

The day of Prince Yuki's ninth birthday dawned clear and blue, and the joyful sounds of feasting and merry-making filled the streets. In the royal palace, the grand party in honor of the prince promised to last for a week. Everyone was happy, except perhaps for a certain young mage who, in his disgust over all the to-do, had stalked out of the palace vowing not to return until much later that evening when all the nine-year-old children were asleep. The king and queen beamed proudly as well-wishers thronged around the young prince. Lords and ladies drifted about in colorful clouds. Servants smiled at one another in the hallways. Soldiers passed around jugs of ale and toasted the young prince. Mages at the Academy abandoned their scrying for the day to join the city-dwellers in the streets. Filled with joy and love for the handsome young heir, the entire city floated upon an ocean of food, wine and euphoria.

Then Akito struck.

The day that promised to be bright and joyful darkened in the blink of an eye, and shrieks of laughter quickly turned to cries of bewilderment and screams of terror. Storm clouds covered the sky until it was hard to tell if it was day or night. The earth shook and trembled, casting down towers and houses around the terrified people, tearing deep gorges in the ground from which noxious red fumes poured out. Akito's shadow army attacked, and the people found themselves struck from behind by the very same folk they had offered food and wine to mere hours before. City guards ran about in confusion, soldiers desperately tried to regroup, but Akito's army merely vanished into the shadows only to attack again and again. The mages rushed out with spells ready, and found themselves contending with a host of demons. And the earth continued to quake, stone walls continued to crumble and fire surged through the city in a wave of red death. 

And from the tower of the Academy, Akito gazing upon the destruction and death with a satisfied smile. Then he fixed his eyes toward the tower of the royal palace, and his smile deepened to one of anticipation. It was time to pay his respects to his father and his dear little brother. 

The royal palace was in chaos. The king had been about to present Yuki with his birthday gift when the earthquake struck. Marble pillars and walls groaned and collapsed, crushing the merry-makers as they fled. Fire followed the earthquake, gushing up from cracks in the ground, and the magically-sensitive members of the royal family found themselves clutching their heads and whimpering as wave upon wave of power swept over them. Dazed and in pain, the king struggled to master himself and stand up, and found himself confronting a thin, pale figure cloaked in black, walking calmly through the fire, cold gray eyes glinting in the darkness. Hovering above was a looming shadow, a black void with eyes of sharp red lightning and an empty gaping maw that devoured all life and light and hope. The king looked up at the shadow, the bringer of death and silence, then at his smiling son, and his spirit shriveled inside him. 

Akito had come home.

The battle that ensued was horrifyingly brief and, in the end, utterly futile. Even a mage-king could not hope to defeat a dark god. In the end, as the king lay dying at his feet, Akito gave his arch-demon a final command and the dark lord Mugon obeyed, rising up into the air in a twisting gale and then sinking deep into the earth. And then—silence. People looked up in fear and wonder. One last glimmer of hope…and then the city died.

No mere fire or earthquake could destroy a city and shatter a kingdom as utterly as this. The earth simply opened up and swallowed the city. Nothing remained—no tree, no tower, not even a single brick. At the wreckage of the palace, the ground split open and waters rushed forth in a great flood. The palace, the gardens, the pagodas—all lost to the fury of the crashing waves, until finally, a vast lake was formed in the place where the palace once stood. All that was left was a tiny island with its tower rising up as a lonely testament to the evil that brought it to ruin.

Eventually, a dense, dark forest grew over the land where the city once stood. Nobody dared to enter that forest. The few who tried never came back. It is said the forest is cursed, that its borders crossed into another world, a hellish place full of demons and monsters. The land surrounding the forest was a wasteland, where nothing grew. The river had turned to dust. The fields and orchards had withered away. Shinosohma, the great city, was dead. The Kingdom of Kaibara was broken.

And what of poor Yuki, who lost his family, his home and his kingdom in one fell blow? 

Some say the prince had died, crushed underneath the rubble during the earthquake. Or burned in the fire. Or killed by demons. Even if he somehow managed to survive all that, he still would have drowned when the lake was formed, along with the rest of his family. 

But some say the prince _did_ survive. That Akito had captured him and put a curse on him. Some even claim that Prince Yuki was still alive, imprisoned in a dungeon of a castle on an island in the middle of an enchanted lake just beyond the forest. But that was, of course, ridiculous. The story was more than two hundred years old. Surely no one could live as the prisoner of a black sorcerer for that long, nor would one wish to.

"Then again, who really knows for sure?" the mother finished with shrug. She turned to her daughter, curled up in her lap. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

Soft sobbing answered her. "The poor prince! The poor king! The poor people! How sad for them!"

"Even Akito?"

The little girl went still for a moment, then nodded fervently. "Oh yes. They treated him so badly. It wasn't all his fault." She sniffled and wiped at her nose, then sat up suddenly. "Mother, do you think the prince is still alive?"

"Perhaps. The place beyond the forest is steeped in magic. Anything can happen."

"But what if he _were_ still alive? What happens then?"

Her mother smiled. "Then he should do what all lost princes should do: Take back his kingdom."

The little girl's eyes widened at the possibility. "He could be alive. He _could_ be. I want to help him. Won't somebody help him, Mother?"

"Somebody will." The mother affectionately smoothed down her daughter's hair, her fingers coming to rest on the little orange cat pendant hanging around the small throat. "Now go to sleep, sweetheart. The time for sad stories is over. Your Prince of Snows is waiting for you."

She kissed her daughter good night and tucked the covers around her. A stream of silvery light fell upon the sleeping face in a gentle benediction. The young mother looked up, and she and Yaori shared a smile.

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(TO BE CONTINUED…)

Author's notes: Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. It's a monstrously long bit of work, and it's taking so long to finish. It's an alternate world kind of thing, with a lot of OOCs and extremely different takes on the curse, but I tried to keep all the characters together, somehow. Most of this is based on the Furuba anime, as I have no access to the manga. It also doesn't help that I live on another planet. By the way, this is heavily Yuki-Tohru-oriented, as well as Kyou-Kagura and some new team-ups that surprised even me. Reviews, negative or positive, are welcome. 


	2. Book 1, Chapter 1

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Book One: Princess Tohru

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Three Months Ago

Kagura was not running away.

Or so she told herself, as she lay listening to her mother's snores and the creak of the bed as her sister shifted position. Her gaze flickered to the window, covered entirely by a curtain of thin slats except for a slit of dark sky. She could have suggested that they leave the window open at least for tonight, but evenings in this accursed land brought a cold draft, and her mother and sister would have been instantly suspicious if she'd insisted on trying to sleep while shivering underneath the blanket. She tried to remember how long it had been since supper, and decided to wait a little while longer.

She wasn't running away, although she sometimes wondered if she wasn't being completely honest with herself. Life in the settlement had become nearly intolerable. People went around with grim faces and spoke in low, tense voices, and she wondered just who they thought were listening in. The rocks? The scraggly trees? Maybe the little gray lizards skittering around the huts were actually conspiring against them and planning a massive attack, starting with the systematic decimation of the local gnat population. She'd made the mistake of voicing out those thoughts once, and the reproachful silence she'd received felt a thousand times worse than if they'd yelled at her to keep her mouth shut. Her mother had nearly disowned her. The Ashari had suffered much in the past years, and by Kami, they had _earned_ the right to be as dour and suspicious as a bunch of old hags. As an Ashari who had lost her father and brother in the riots that had driven their people out of their homeland and into the open sea, Kagura ought to be more respectful of her people's grief and deep mistrust of anything unfamiliar. And she was. Kami knew there were still nights when she woke up shaking and crying, memories of death and violence dancing before her eyes. She knew she would never be free of them, even if she lived for a hundred years. She would never, ever forget the pain of losing someone she loved. 

She closed her eyes. _Kyou…_

Her mother snorted and turned on her side. Kagura froze, but her mother slept on. She exhaled slowly and unclenched her hands. They felt so cold and damp she wondered why her sister wasn't complaining about the chill. Now that the moment had come, she realized she was terrified. A part of her mind was jumping up and down frantically and demanding that she think about what she was about to do. What did she know about this place? Nothing, except that it was much, much bigger than the sun-kissed island she'd once called home. This land looked as if it could fit fifty sun-kissed islands. What did she know about navigating through forests and surviving bitter nights and tracking down quarry that could move much faster than she could and had already had a good two months' head start? This was insane. She didn't have the faintest idea where to go or where to turn to for help. She'd be lost and freezing to death within a week. 

The image of a scowling, fiery-haired boy flickered in her mind. _Kyou…_

Her eyes flew open then narrowed into determined slits. This was something she had to do. Besides, it wasn't as if she was going on this journey empty-handed. She could hunt and fish. She could build a small hut of her own if she needed to. She could cook too, no matter how much Kyou ranted about her trying to kill him with her cooking. And if any robbers tried to bother her—well, she was the only one who could beat up the Ashari's best fighter to a ragged pulp after all. She could take care of herself. And what she didn't know, she'd just have to learn.

Oh, who was she kidding? Anything was better than staying here and slowly going crazy just waiting for news to trickle in. She was sick of constantly worrying and pretending everything was fine so that people would stop accusing her of being an oppressive mother hen. For once, she was going to something about it.

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So I'm not running away, she concluded her argument against her conscience. _I'm doing the right thing. _As she had always done ever since she was a child, she turned to Kyou for confirmation, and his voice quickly responded: _Run away? When you can just beat everything up half to death? Violent apes like you never run away_. She'd beaten _him_ up half to death after that remark, and it was only later that she realized that he'd actually complimented her, in his own gruff way. Tears stung her eyes. _Oh Kyou, I miss you so much_.

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Go to him, Kagura, a gentle voice whispered in her mind. _Find him._

She knew that voice. It was almost as familiar to her now as Kyou's voice. She'd heard it the first time many months ago, during one of those interminable nights aboard the ship. She'd been crammed into the cargo hold along with the other refugees, up to her knees in sick, miserable people. Finally, unable to endure the moans and the sour smell of sickness and sweat any longer, she'd fled to the deck and stood at the rail with the wind whipping her hair, eyes staring sightlessly into the impenetrable darkness, breaths coming in shallow gasps. She clung to the rail, fighting off the desperate urge to crumble into a million pieces right on there on the deck and cry and cry and never stop crying. The darkness was inside her, and she had no more places where she could run and hide. She had never felt so alone. 

And then…she wasn't alone anymore. 

She didn't quite know how it happened, but suddenly a woman was standing beside her, gazing out to sea, her white cloak fluttering behind her like a pair of wings. Her sea-blue eyes shone with a soft, kind light, and her red-gold hair streamed out like a splash of sunlight against the darkness. Despite the woman's mysterious appearance, Kagura felt no fear or resentment at her intrusion, only an odd sort of comfort. As if just by being near her, the woman was sharing her own warmth and strength with her. Kagura didn't think to question her presence, and for a long moment they simply stood side by side in companionable silence while the tension drained out of Kagura's body. After a while, the woman turned to her and smiled. "It'll be good to be home."

Kagura looked away. "I don't have a home. Not anymore."

To her surprise, the woman laughed, a happy sound that reminded her of summer afternoons. "Home begins here, Kagura-chan," she said, pointing to her chest. "'Home' is a place and time that matches the contours of your heart. When you know your heart, you've found your home."

Then she brushed back Kagura's hair in a sweetly maternal gesture, and Kagura found herself closing her eyes and throwing herself into her welcoming arms. She must have dozed off then, because when she opened her eyes she was curled up on the deck with her back to the railing, and Kyou was kneeling beside her, shaking her by the shoulder. "What kind of idiot falls asleep at the edge of a ship?" he said disgustedly. When she apologized, he curtly informed her that her mother had sent him to look for her, just to make sure she hadn't flung herself overboard or something equally stupid. She asked him if he'd seen a red-haired woman in a white cloak, and he gave her such a look that if she hadn't been feeling disoriented at the moment, she'd have kicked his sorry ass all over the deck. When she told him so, he snorted and turned his back on her. 

He stalked back to the cargo hold with her trailing behind him. Even irate, Kyou moved with the lithe, rolling grace of a natural hunter. She watched him, and her heart swelled with so much emotion that her chest ached. "Kyou," she called. 

He glared at her over his shoulder. "What?" 

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When you know your heart, you've found your home. "I love you so much."

He blinked, surprised that she'd said the words without trying to squeeze the life out of him in one of her exuberant—and extremely painful—bear hugs. Instead, she smiled at him until his face flushed. "Get away from me," he snapped before stomping away. 

Kagura's smile stayed with her for the rest of the night. The red-haired woman was a dream, of course—she was too ethereally lovely to be real—but she was a dream Kagura clung to during difficult nights. Sometimes when the nightmares came, the woman would appear and take her hand, speaking to her gently, telling her not to be afraid. Then she would lead her out of her nightmare and into a soft, calm place, and Kagura's sleep would be peaceful again. 

But Kagura wasn't sleeping now, and if she were, her sleep would be far from peaceful. For the past week she'd been having the same dream. It wasn't one of her usual nightmares, but it was a nightmare just the same. Kyou was there, his face looking as if it had been carved in stone, and his wine-colored eyes that usually snapped with temper or burned with the light of battle struck Kagura as oddly desolate. His lips were moving but she couldn't hear him, and he wasn't looking at her but at someone behind her. Then he turned and walked away until he vanished into the mist. She cried out his name and tried to follow, but a heavy hand lay across her shoulder, holding her back. She nearly wept at the wrenching familiarity of the scene. Kyou looked exactly like that the last time she saw him. And just as it happened before, she heard a voice speaking behind her.

"Let him go, Kagura. No one is allowed to come between a warrior and his quest. You know this."

It was the shuucho, Kazuma. Chieftain of the Ashari. The quiet authority in his voice and the unyielding hand on her shoulder was all that kept her from tearing free and running after Kyou. She bent her head and covered her face with her hands to hide her anguish. The mist thickened and surrounded her, and when she looked up, she could see nothing but shifting shadows. The hand on her shoulder tightened, hard fingers that felt as if they were tipped with claws digging into her flesh until she cried out in pain. She was suddenly aware of a low growling coming from the mist, the rasping sound of something slithering on the ground, and a sharp, nauseating smell, like rotten flesh and sulfur. The claws pierced her skin and blood flowed down her arm, but she couldn't move. The voice spoke again, and even the voice had changed, becoming something between a soft hiss and a high-pitched shriek. "Let him go, Kagura," the voice urged her. "The boy is cursed. You know this. The child of sorrow does not deserve a place among our people."

"Don't call him that," Kagura whispered. 

The voice laughed mockingly. "I call him as I will. Go ahead, but no matter how hard you search, you will never find him. Your eyes will never see, nor your ears hear. He is lost to you forever."

"No," Kagura tried to say, but her throat closed up at the sight of the eyes—cold, yellow reptilian eyes watching her from the mist. They seemed to grow until they filled the world, and she opened her mouth to scream—

And she would jerk awake, trembling and covered in a cold sweat. Kyou. Something bad had happened to Kyo. But what? Nobody in the settlement would listen to her, let alone help her find him. They already believed her half-insane with her obsession with Kyou without her adding bizarre dreams of monstrous reptiles and disembodied voices. She'd also realized, with a frisson of alarm, that the red-haired woman who'd saved her from her nightmares before had not appeared in this dream. Had she been overcome? Was the monster too powerful to defeat?

Then on the seventh night since the nightmare began plaguing her, the woman appeared, coming between her and the horrible slitted eyes in a flash of white and gold. When the brightness receded, only Kagura and the woman remained. 

"Forgive me for not coming sooner, Kagura-chan," the woman said, her voice soft with regret. "Some dreams not even I can protect you from."

"Kyou…what's happened to Kyou? Tell me, please!" 

The woman shook her head. "I don't know. He has gone beyond my sight. But there might still be time, and he will need you before the end comes. You have to go to him, Kagura-chan. You have to find him."

And Kagura knew what she had to do. 

It wasn't anything particular—perhaps it was the way the moonlight slipped through the slit in the window or the persistent chirping of the crickets, but Kagura suddenly knew it was time. She pushed the blanket aside and sat up, wincing as the bed creaked a little under her weight. She padded silently out of the room, glancing one last time at her mother and sister before slipping out the door, and darted toward the family shrine, with its crude portraits of her father and brother. The altar doubled as a trunk where they kept the sacred linens, and Kagura set the portraits aside, opened the trunk and pulled out the pack she had prepared yesterday, then returned the altar to its original state. She closed her eyes and murmured a prayer to her father and brother for guidance, then pulled her boots on and wrapped herself in the brand new cloak she'd bought at the market in Mizaka—a heavy, woolen thing that reminded her a little of the cloak the red-haired woman always wore. She carefully unlatched the door, and let herself out. 

She'd gotten as far as the main street—or the wide dirt road that passed for main street in the settlement—before she was stopped by someone calling her. "Bwee?"

She looked down and smiled. "Keero! You've come to say goodbye?"

The small brown piglet sat on his haunches and stared at her with soulful eyes. Kagura bent down to pet him. "I'm sorry, Keero, but I can't take you with me. To be honest, I'm not even sure where I'm going myself."

"Bwee!" The piglet's face took on a distinctly stubborn expression. Kagura sighed, recognizing the look from long experience with a certain cantankerous red-head. She glanced around at the darkened houses. She had to admit, not too many would be willing to adopt an infant wild boar. She'd found him in the same marketplace where she bought her cloak. He looked so miserable hunched up in a cage, with a sign advertising a succulent wild boar, so she'd traded one of her most prized possessions—a pair of silver earrings belonging to her grandmother—just to rescue the poor thing, but when she tried to set him free in the closest thing to a forest they could find, he only turned around and followed her back. The others in the settlement, including her family and Kyo, made fun of the little boar and its completely un-boar-like devotion to a human being, but by then Kagura already belonged to Keero, heart and soul. 

To be honest, she really didn't want to leave him behind. Somebody might just get a hankering for roasted boar one of these days. She smiled wryly at the piglet. "All right, you win. You can come along. Maybe when we get to the forest you'll change your mind about staying with me." Keero snorted his opinion of that, and she chuckled. "Really, Keero, sometimes you remind me of me. Now come on. We've got one last thing to do here before we leave."

Girl and boar made their way down the silent street until they came to a large house by the side of the square. Kazuma-cho's house. Kagura stared misty-eyed at the home of the man who had treated both her and Kyou with affection and respect, even when nobody else would. She and Kyou owed him so much. "May Kami bless you always," she murmured softly. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, and carefully slipped it underneath the door. Her disappearance would likely cause a furor tomorrow, and the already paranoid people of Ashari would likely be seeing spies and conspirators at every corner if she didn't at least try to explain. Kazuma-cho would understand. He always did.

She took a path leading to a gap in the wall surrounding the settlement. The gap was wide enough for her and Keero to squeeze through. Once outside, she climbed up a hill then stopped to get her bearings. "Let's see. East would lead us to Mizaka, where I'd probably get arrested and you get turned into a tasty stew. South leads to the sea, the last place I want to go to. The west? Kami only knows what lies that way. Keero, where could Kyou and the others have gone to?"

Keero looked up at her and grunted softly. Kagura smiled. "That's right. How could I forget? They went north. Kyou said the Ashari's Promised Land lay to the north."

She looked back at the sleeping settlement. A brief thought drifted through her mind—would she ever see Kazuma-cho and her family again?—then she squared her shoulders and set off toward the shadowy north, leaving the settlement behind. 

"I'm not running away from home, Keero." 

__

When you know your heart, you've found your home.

__

Go to him, Kagura. 

"I'm going to find it."

Author's Notes: 

Thank you so much, MoO-mOo, Carpetfibers, Celarania, Nebula Moon, and Alexandra-Kyoko, for the encouraging reviews. Honestly, I was getting a bit discouraged with the fic, but then you guys came, and suddenly I'm on a high. And to Kyo-Tohru fans like Celarania, sorry I couldn't make this a Kyo-Tohru fic, but I hope you enjoy it just the same. And, oh yes, it's also a Kagura-Kyo fic, so, er, non-Kagura-Kyo fans might be a bit off-put by it. This is actually my very first fanfic, and I hope I got the characters' basic personalities down, even if their backgrounds are a bit different. As for Keero, my apologies to Akane-chan's cute pet P-chan. I'll try to update this once a week. Once again, doomo arigatou gozaimasu, minna-san!

-- moira who's still in shock over actually getting reviews


	3. Book 1, Chapter 2 & 3

**__**

Warning: Swearing and foul language alert. Honto ni gomenasai. If you're offended by cussing and four letter words and stuff like that (nothing like Eminem, though), it's not too late to turn back.

One and a half months ago

In the port city of Mizaka, a gray, wet dawn was only beginning to shake off its stupor and crawl out into the streets. In a dingy alley near the pier, however, three men were about to be reacquainted with the soothing comfort of unconsciousness.

"Akkan curse this weather," one of them grumbled as he hunched deeper into his coat. The three of them were huddled against the back door of an all-night tavern, watching water stream down from the sky. "Rainin' day and night like this, it can't be natural."

There was a brief flare as the second one lit a cigarette. "Be glad the wind's stopped. Rain's good, if we're careful. I can work with rain, but not with a fuckin' typhoon."

"All this damned rain's useless now that they've closed the eastern gate," the first one retorted. "The central gate's lousy with guards. We ain't gonna get through."

"Izzo, quit worryin'. The rats'll come through for us."

"Huh?"

"He means the march." The third man, who'd been silently watching the alley, spoke up. "The gov's thinkin' of executing the two captured rebels, and there's talk of the Outers marching to central market and storming the gates. The guards'll have their hands full just keepin' 'em from swarming in. And while they're at it—"

"We go in, do the job, and get the hell out," the second man finished with satisfaction.

Izzo looked confused. "What happened to waiting until the Sun Festival?"

"What's the matter with you?" the third man asked irritably. "The gov's not gonna open the gates this year, Festival or no Festival. If you got your head out from between your new wench's legs long enough, you'd know this."

The second man smirked, while Izzo flushed and scowled at him. "Ikamura'll be at the council meeting," the third man went on. "His family'll be at the temple. There'll be no one left at the mansion but a bunch of servants. Miho'll put them to sleep, then unlock—_what's that_?"

The three snapped to narrow-eyed alertness. Sure enough, they could hear the faint, measured sound of footsteps over the patter of rain. Izzo and the second man tensed, then leaped at the shadows. After a brief scuffle, they reappeared, dragging a limp figure in a black hooded coat between them. "It's one of 'em juvenile dele—delik—teenage gangsters," the second man spat. "He's been listening to us, I know it."

The hood was pulled off the stranger's head, and the man found himself looking into cool gray eyes in a smooth face topped with spiky white hair that turned black at the back of his head. The boy was wearing black all over, with only the silver chains hanging around his neck providing a contrast. Even his boots were black and tipped with steel. The man gave the boots an odd look. With boots like that, they should have heard this guy clanking noisily a long while back. He frowned. There was something strange about the boy, but damned if he knew what it was. He looked up, and noted with a prickle of unease, that the boy's lips were curved in a small smile.

"Which one's your boss, huh?" Izzo snarled into the boy's face. "Who sent you?"

"Nobody," the boy replied calmly. "I was just passing through." 

"How much did you hear?"

"Nothing."

"He's lying," the second man put in. "Gods know how long he's been skulking around back there. He's gonna talk, I tell you."

Izzo slammed the boy against the wall. As if by magic, a knife appeared in his hand, right in front of the boy's face. "Well, we'll just have to make sure he _can't_ talk now, won't we?"

The third man watched carefully. The boy's head had snapped back when he hit the wall, but when he looked at them, his eyes were more silver now than gray, with only the barest hint of pupil in them. The man had seen eyes like that before. There was that hag back in his village. Wasn't right in the head, that old bitch. She went about all harmless and peaceful-like, then the kids would throw one too many stones at her, and something would snap and she'd just go _crazy_. Thrashing and kicking and hollering, and no one would dare go near her unless they were itching to have an ear bitten off or an arm wrenched out of its socket. The hag's eyes, the man realized, looked the way the boy's eyes looked now, just before she started rampaging. The prickle of unease suddenly became a full-blown spasm of dread.

Izzo was drawing his arm back, preparing to bury the knife in the boy's stomach, when the third man shouted: "Get away from him!"

Too late. The knife flying toward the boy never made it to its target as the boy grabbed Izzo's arm, turned and twisted it behind his back so high the joint popped. Izzo's screech of pain was abruptly cut off when the boy threw him against the wall. Izzo's companion made a clumsy attempt to wrestle the boy to the ground, but the boy stepped aside and punched him in the throat. The man turned a ghastly white and clutched at his neck. Another punch, and he collapsed face first into a puddle beside Izzo. 

The third man gaped at his fallen companions. The boy laughed, his face a mask of sadistic enjoyment. "So, thieving scum like you are trying to tell me what I can or can't do, huh? Any more of your shithead friends hanging around? It's going to take a lot more than this to take me down."

The man was frozen to the spot, mesmerized by the change in the boy's entire demeanor. "H-here, you're a fuckin' Inner! You can't—"

The boy kicked him so hard he went flying backward out onto the street, right in front of a drunken sailor, who took one look at the black specter coming out of the alley, decided he wasn't drunk enough for this, and quickly fled the scene. The boy stood over the prone figure of the would-be thief and shook his head. "What did I just tell you, asshole?" 

Then he pulled his hood back on, stuck his hands in his pockets, and vanished in the rain.

* - * - *

The room was a mess. Papers lay scattered across the desk, one corner of which bristled with quills and brushes and ink boxes. A lamp sat nearby, glowing cheerfully against the weak light slanting in through the window. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with bookshelves, except for a patch above a small table. An ancient heraldic banner, faded with age, was mounted upon this place of honor, and beneath it, an onyx sculpture of a wolf, with its ears pricked forward and muzzle regally high, sat beside vase of daisies somebody had lovingly arranged. More books were stacked around the floor, and if one viewed the room from above, one could see lines of bare carpet winding around the piles, the way a path is cut through a jungle by constant use. 

Once, Shigure Sohma had gazed upon the chaos around him and considered accepting Tohru's offer to help him clean up the place. That was, what? Months ago, as he recalled. But now, as he leaned back in his chair and stared out the window, contemplating the falling rain, the problem of a messy study was the farthest thing on his mind.

The rain was a pathetic finale for the succession of the storms that had battered the city. Being so close to the sea, Mizaka was no stranger to erratic weather and sudden squalls; still, week after week of howling winds and pouring rains took its toll on the trading city. Ships were grounded, roofs, window panes and even entire walls were blown off houses, trees were uprooted and flung into the streets. Friends and acquaintances complained to Shigure about how much gold they were losing each day the storms raged, and Shigure had to admit, even the Sohma family's business had taken a blow, although it wasn't as bad as the others. But it wasn't the losses that disturbed him. It was the fact that it was raining at all.

In the middle of summer, mere days before the Sun Festival. Traditionally the hottest, driest season, and the rains came down as if they fully intended to be a permanent fixture in Mizaka.

He'd heard comments about how odd the weather was, but too many things were happening for anyone to take note of its significance. He doubted he'd be any different, if it weren't for a strange restlessness that had been plaguing him for weeks, as if some forgotten but immeasurably important thing was tugging at his mind. A deep-seated instinct was telling him that something else was behind these storms, but what it was he couldn't begin to imagine. Sometimes he'd wake up in the middle of the night and he could almost _feel_ it. The back of his neck would be tingling and every breath would leave a bitter tang. Even now, there was a heaviness in the air, as if the slack in the storms was only a pause for breath before the start of another onslaught. 

It didn't help that he hadn't been sleeping well lately. For the past few weeks his dreams had been…disquieting. They always ended the same way, with the horrifying sensation of being submerged in water and rock and he was either drowning or being crushed. The gods only knew what that meant. Maybe it was all this living by the sea; he was getting sun sickness without the inconvenience of having to stay on deck under the glaring sun all day long. The thought amused him. He already had a reputation as an eccentric character, but wouldn't people be surprised to find out just _how_ eccentric he really was? Certain factions within the Council would wet their pants at the chance to cut down the Sohma family's power, and he doubted his uncle Amano would appreciate getting booted out of Takei's circle of confidants because of his, Shigure's, alarming turn toward the delusional.

Maa_, but would that be so terrible?_ came the disloyal thought. Too many small-minded graybeards were getting their way with the governor. Perhaps Shigure would be doing the city a favor by causing his uncle to fall out of favor. 

Not that Shigure would be all that effective as moderating influence over the conservatives. Disgust welled up in him as he thought about Governor Takei's latest exploit. Closing the eastern gate. He wondered which paranoid old fool Makoto had gotten that idea from. As if the waves of protest that swept through the Inner City at the closing of the three other gates hadn't made it clear enough how unpopular the idea was, to say nothing of the howling in the Outer City. The Reformation Party nearly went into collective seizures as their numbers were swelled by young idealists, who believed Mizaka was choking from too many laws. As long as the conservatives ruled the Council, however, the Reformation Party would have to content themselves with shouting in the streets and hanging streamers from every tree and lamppost still left standing. 

Makoto Takei, as infuriatingly unpredictable as he was, was right about one thing. For all their marches and noise and fondness of red paint, the real danger didn't lie in the Inners. It was in the swelling, heaving masses in the Outer City, beyond the massive stone wall dividing Mizaka in two. The foreign exiles, immigrants, drifters, stowaways, traders, sailors, prostitutes, orphans, smugglers and criminal gangs—in short, everyone who failed to live up to the Inner City's stringent standards of pedigree, prosperity and politics. The Outers, who had never had too much respect for the law imposed upon them by the Inners to begin with, had their own freedom fighters now in that tribe of refugees turned bandits, adopting the bandits' cause as their own. Robbery, kidnapping, extortion, murder—every sort of crime the human race could commit had always run rampant in the Outer City, but now, for perhaps the first time in the history of the city, it was _organized _crime.

Only Akkan knew what kind of storm was brewing out there.

Bizarre weather patterns. The governor plucking decrees from out of thin air. The city up in arms. And in the middle of it all was a desperate band of refugees driven out of their home by the flames of revolution.

"No, that wasn't it," he muttered, shaking his head. Ashamed as he was to admit it, even he had found it convenient to blame the miserable Ashari for Mizaka's present ills, but that same instinct was screaming at him to rethink his theory. It wasn't the Ashari. He had a feeling the refugees were as much a victim in this as the city was. There was something bigger at work here than a simple case of a misunderstanding blown up to justify rebellion. 

And if he doubted the truth of this, then here was the proof right before his eyes.

His gaze lowered to the much-folded piece of paper in his hand. Kana had written it; her handwriting was easier to read than Hatori's chicken scratches. But her usually neat, loopy script was jerky and uneven, as if she'd scrawled off the letter in a hurry, and a spot was blurred where a drop of liquid had fallen on the paper. Kana was deeply distressed, and no wonder.

"Our daughter, Kisa, is very ill," she'd written. "The fever began a month ago, but it never lasted long and she'd been sick with the flu before that, so we thought it was simply a relapse. But she grew worse and worse. She collapsed a week ago and hasn't left her bed since. The fever brings on a kind of delirium, and whatever it is she sees in that state frightens her. The doctors can find no reason for her illness. We've tried every cure we know, but nothing works. All we can do is fight off the fever and be with her. Hiro-kun hasn't left her room for days. The helplessness is eating into Hatori's soul. He doesn't speak of it, not even to me, but I see it in his eyes. I'm so afraid, Shigure-san, for both my daughter and my husband. I don't know what to do anymore.

"Hatori doesn't know I'm writing to you. Even now, word is coming in of demon attacks on the outlying villages, and he and the others have gone to reinforce the villages' defenses and find out what is causing the attacks. He won't give up searching for a cure for Kisa, but he is still the Duke of Ryuukama after all. He may write to you himself, but I find I cannot wait until he does.

"Shigure-san, I beg you, please consider my urgent request."

Shigure grimaced. The idea of demon attacks was as alien to him as the concept of sea sickness was to Hatori and Kana. Then again, just because magic was forbidden in Mizaka didn't mean it was the same everywhere else. Obviously, some people regarded magical ability as a blessing instead of a curse, and some regions in the West were highly charged with magic. Ryuukama was well known even in Mizaka as a center of learning where talents in magic and the healing arts were nurtured and trained. Hatori himself was one of the strongest mages Shigure knew of, and a gifted healer as well. How it must cut him to be unable to help his own daughter.

Demon attacks in a place protected by magic. Poor Kisa stricken by a fever that brought on nightmares. Shigure sensed a pattern beginning to emerge. It was impossible, really. Even to someone like him, whose knowledge of sorcery was sketchy at best, the idea was ridiculous. His gaze shifted toward the onyx wolf, who regarded him with sad, wise eyes. _Why should it be ridiculous_, the wolf seemed to say, _when something like it has happened two hundred years ago?_

"All right, I can see how that can happen," he conceded. "But it still doesn't explain Kana's request, and _you're_ not giving anything away."

His conversation with the wolf was interrupted by a knock on the door. "_Anoo_, Shigure-san? May I come in?" 

Shigure found himself smiling at the sound of her voice. Pulling his reading glasses off, he tucked Kana's letter into his pocket and called out: "Of course, Tohru-kun. Come in."

The door opened, and a girl peeked in shyly. "Good morning, Shigure-san. I don't mean to intrude, but I just came to tell you that breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Oh! And I came to give you this." She stepped inside, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a small flower pot full of purple geraniums. She looked around for an empty space to put the tray on and settled for a small stack of books on the side of the desk. "You were up so early this morning," she explained. "I thought you might like a cup of coffee to warm you up a bit."

Shigure glanced at the cup, then at the girl who was standing beside him. The lamplight illuminated her heart-shaped face, reflecting in her soft, sea-blue eyes. She was dressed simply in an old blue house dress, the blue ribbons holding her long chestnut hair back at the sides and her charm necklace with its little animal charms her only ornamentation. She was not, perhaps, as stunning or exotic as the young ladies Shigure constantly surrounded himself with at social events, but her kindness and innocence and complete unawareness of her own attractiveness combined to make her one of the most refreshingly beautiful girls he'd ever met. She smiled at him, a bright, happy smile that filled the room with warmth. Shigure's heart instantly grew lighter, and his own smile widened. "Ah, Tohru-kun, you bring joy to this poor old man's life. My tired and lonely soul will be healed by this coffee you offer with all your love," he declaimed, clutching the cup as if it contained all the treasures of the world. 

Tohru laughed, having grown accustomed to his passionate outbursts. "You're not old or tired or poor or lonely, Shigure-san. Hmm?" She glanced around the room, puzzled. "I thought I heard you talking to someone a while ago."

He twitched. "No, actually I was just, ah, thinking out loud. Trying out a few sentences before I wrote them down. You know how we brilliant but eccentric novelists can be."

"Eh? You're writing again? How wonderful!" she said delightedly. "I can't wait until your next book comes out. I've always loved stories like yours, with lots of adventure and romance and happy endings. In fact, the only sad story I'd ever liked was the one about—" She stopped suddenly, and blushed. "I'm sorry. I got a bit excited over your new book. What's it about?"

"Hmm, well, it's—" Shigure glanced down at the papers on his desk, conscious of the slight lump of Kana's letter in his pocket. "To tell you the truth, I'm still trying to find out myself. This particular story is taking longer than expected to reveal itself to me," he added cryptically.

"Oh." She gave him a sympathetic look. "I guess it's because you've been too busy to write lately. But Mit-chan-san could always ask the printers to give you an extension like she did before," she said, then trailed off at his amused look. They both knew that Mit-chan, Shigure's much-harried private secretary cum literary agent, was more likely to lock him in his study until he coughed up the manuscript or expired, whichever came first. Tohru grew flustered as honesty warred with the need to make him feel better. "Well, ah—maybe Mit-chan-san would, um—"

He chuckled at the look on her face. "Tohru-kun, I only wish Mit-chan shared your faith in me."

Tohru smiled, then turned to glance out the window. "Look, Shigure-san, the rain's stopped. I think I can even see the sun peeking out." He followed her gaze. The sky looked as dismal as ever, but if he looked closely, he could almost see the glimpse of sun she was talking about. "I hope the storms have passed," she went on as her eyes clouded. "I hope Hatsuharu-san comes home. It's been four days. He's never been lost this long before, and in such weather, too." 

Shigure flapped a hand. "_Maa_, don't worry about Ha-kun. He can take care of himself." 

"But—"

"Tooooohruuu-kun." He wagged a finger at her playfully. "You don't think I'd let my cousin wander off into danger without my knowing, do you?" Her eyes widened as understanding sank in. Shigure preferred a low-key lifestyle, but power and wealth had certain benefits that were terribly useful at times. Shigure's "agents" were out there in the city, storm or no storm, and if anything happened to Haru, Shigure would be the first to know. 

He leaned back, smiling. "Good girl."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll try not to worry anymore, and—oh! I almost forgot!" She took the pot of geraniums from the tray and picked her way toward the heraldic shrine. "The daisies needed to be changed," she said over her shoulder before turning to the onyx wolf. "Good morning, Pochie!" she greeted it as she set the geraniums beside it. "I thought you might like looking at something alive for a change, although the daisies were lovely, weren't they?"

"'Pochie'?" Shigure murmured, lifting one eyebrow.

She turned to him. "Oh yes. The name suits him, I think. He's such a cute dog, but he looks a little sad, so I talk to him sometimes. I don't know why, but talking to him always makes me feel better. Ah!" She blinked suddenly and covered her cheeks with her hands. "That sounds so strange, me talking to your dog statue. It's just this silly thing I do."

"'Silly thing?'" he echoed, torn between indignation and laughter. "Tohru-kun, this 'cute dog' is Oukami, the Black Wolf of the North, once the symbol of our family's might. He was my great-great-grandfather's most prized possession, which he in turn inherited from _his_ grandfather." He came to stand beside her, reverentially picking up the onyx wolf. "If you feel comfortable talking to him, it's because he's had a lot of experience in listening. Everyone in my line, from my great-great-grandfather down, has done it one time or another. People have even worshipped him once. It sounds a bit pagan, but Oukami is our family's guardian spirit of sorts."

Tohru's eyes had grown rounder and rounder during his speech. "Eh?!" she gasped in horror. "I'm sorry, Shigure-san! I had no idea he was such an important dog—"

"Wolf."

"Ack! I mean wolf!" She bowed her head, her face aflame. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be disrespectful when I named him Pochie, I'll never call him that again, I—"

"Tohru-kun." Shigure laid a hand on the top of her head, effectively shutting her up. She looked up, and found him grinning down at her. "Between you and me," he went on, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, "I think Oukami _likes_ being called 'Pochie.'" She blinked at him, then at the wolf, and her smile grew until she ended up giggling herself. He ruffled her hair and returned Oukami—Pochie!—to his spot. "Now, did I hear you mention something about break—"

"Toooooohhhruuuu!"

The door flew open and a golden-haired, golden-eyed boy who looked to be around ten years old, dressed in a frilly pink shirt, brown shorts and a pink beret, bounded into the room. He stopped short at the sight of Shigure and Tohru standing together. "Heeeh? Shi-chan, you're not flirting with Tohru again, are you?" he demanded.

Shigure's face was incandescent with innocence. "Momiji-kun, you know I always flirt with beautiful young girls. Why would I be any different toward our Tohru-kun?" When her mouth dropped open in shock, he winked at her. 

Tohru shook her head at Shigure's antics and turned toward the boy. "Good morning, Momiji-kun. What's that you're holding in your arms?"

Momiji skipped around the stacks of books to show her. A small white and brown rabbit was nestled comfortably in his arms. "Look, look! Isn't he adorable?"

"Waaaah! How cute!" she squealed, rubbing the bunny's soft, furry head with a finger.

"Another rabbit, Momiji?" Shigure said. "How many have you adopted already?"

"Eleven," Momiji replied cheerfully. "I found him hiding outside my bedroom window. Ne, ne, isn't he cute, Tohru? I think the bunnies really like me."

"They certainly do." Tohru laughed as Momiji danced the rabbit around the room, singing to himself. "It's amazing," she said to Shigure. "Even wild rabbits aren't afraid to hop close to him. I guess they can sense that Momiji-kun has a kind heart."

"Mmm, yes. I've seen it, too. No wonder we could never keep a garden." Shigure watched Momiji dart about until his eyes watered. "Um, Tohru-kun? About breakfast…"

Tohru jumped. "Ah! I'm sorry, I forgot! I'll go put the buns out now!" She hurried out of the room, with Momiji following behind her. The study suddenly seemed colder and Shigure felt the tension creep back in, now that Tohru and Momiji weren't there to hold it back with their warmth and energy. He thought about Kana's request and sighed. He didn't understand any of it. The certainty that something big was about to happen nagged at him, but trying to make sense of it was like trying to draw pictures in the sand at high tide.

"Then I'll just have to draw faster," he muttered, and glanced down at Oukami. "Don't you agree, 'Pochie'?"

Chuckling, he left the room, certain he'd just seen a tiny drop of sweat trickle down the back of the onyx wolf's head.

Author's Notes:

Whoa! I beat my own once-a-week deadline. Now THIS is a first. Ahem. Again, thank you so so SO much for the reviews! R Junkie, Kisu, purrfect679, Megami No Hikari, Shunu No Miko and DarkAngelB (hmm, how does one go about making a story open to anonymous reviewers?) and everyone else, you guys are so nice. And thanks for not mentioning the inconsistencies in the spelling of Kyou's name. Internal debate still ongoing about that. (Can anyone tell me, please?) Carpetfibers, arigatou for the point-by-point. And Celarania, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to make you feel you had to, um, repeat yourself? I really appreciate what you said, honestly. Peace? ^_^;

Er, this story's going to be really long. The other characters are starting to emerge, but I know at certain points it can get pretty dragging, and I hope you can stick to it long enough until the boring, background-setting parts are done and the action starts. And if you spot any inconsistencies, feel free to bop me on the head about it. But anyway, I hope you'll still enjoy reading the fic. Kami bless you always.


	4. Book 1, Chapter 4

* - * - *

If someone asked her what her dreams were like, Tohru would have known exactly what to say. 

Her dreams were like this, she thought, as she knelt in the barn beside Momiji. They were surrounded by nearly a dozen rabbits, all of them unafraid to come close and nibble daintily at a piece of lettuce the boy held out in his hand. The horses neighed softly and Momiji's voice winged upward, bright against the soft patter of the rain. Back at the house, she could hear Mit-chan shouting Shigure's name. It would take her another ten minutes to find him stuffed under Hatsuharu's bed, suffering from stomach cramps caused by muffling his laughter too long. Shigure certainly loved to tease his secretary, Tohru thought with helpless amusement. And somewhere out there, Haru was making his way home. 

Her dreams were like this. The sight and sounds of the people she loved. The days dawning with so much promise. Her dreams were her waking moments, because there was nothing more she could wish for. 

__

I'm the luckiest girl in the world, Mother, she sighed, reaching up to clasp the charm necklace nestled in her collar. _I have you and Uo-chan, and now Shigure-san and Momiji-kun and Hatsuharu-san as well. Every day I spend here at Shigure's house is precious to me. _

It was hard to believe that almost a year had already passed since she'd come to stay here at Shigure's house. There were still so many things she wanted to learn about Shigure and Momiji and Haru, yet sometimes she felt as if she'd known them all her life. Which was why, as she watched Momiji, she knew his smile was only partly sincere, and that he was acting cheerful mostly to keep her from noticing the shadows underneath his eyes. She bit her lip, but in the end concern won out over the desire to respect his privacy. "Momiji-kun, is something wrong?"

He glanced over at her. "What do you mean? Oh Tohru, look at that bunny! It's so cute!"

She shook her head and plunged on. "It's just that you seem a bit edgy lately. And I know you haven't been sleeping well these past nights. I was just wondering if something was bothering you, and if you'd like to talk about it."

Momiji went still. "Eh? How did you know I haven't been sleeping well?"

"I hear you sometimes, when you're moving around in your room."

He screwed up his face. "Oh, that? It's nothing. I've been having weird dreams, that's all." 

"What do you dream about, Momiji-kun?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not really sure. I see this city with lots of flat-roofed houses and pointy towers. The people are dressed in funny clothes and running while soldiers chase them through the streets. A woman's voice is calling me and I run too, but I trip and fall down. The last thing I see is a flash of red and a pair of black wings flying over me." He shrugged carelessly. "It's a silly dream, ne, Tohru? It probably doesn't mean anything."

"It sounds scary, though." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then her face brightened. "Whenever I had a bad dream, Mother used to hold my hand and tell me stories to take my mind off my dream. But she told me once that people sometimes needed bad dreams, because that's where they first learn to face down monsters and find their courage. Dreams are where you begin to learn who you really are, and if they don't make sense to you yet, it's because you're still learning." She waved a hand and laughed. "I'm sorry, Momiji-kun, that didn't really help much, did it? I didn't mean to go on and on like that."

Her embarrassed babbling was cut short when Momiji suddenly wrapped her in a tight hug. "Thank you, Tohru. Your mother must have been the wisest, kindest person in the world."

She beamed proudly. "Oh yes, she was."

Not wanting to wait until the rain stopped, they decided to run back to the house. They were met at the door by a tearful Mit-chan. At Momiji's suggestion, she went to look in the one place she hadn't checked yet, and sure enough, Shigure was in his study with a pencil poised over a sheet of paper, a studious frown on his face. Mit-chan sobbed with relief, but Tohru had witnessed this scene often enough to know what would happen the moment when Shigure's secretary discovered what exactly the novelist was working so intently on—and sure enough, Mit-chan's screech rang through the house three seconds later. Tohru shook her head. In Shigure's study, there were ten times as many sketches of beautiful women in skimpy clothing as there were manuscripts for novels. _Poor Mit-chan_, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for wanting to laugh. 

It had begun to rain harder, so Tohru brought her sewing into the living room where the light was brightest, and sat by the window, gazing up at the dismal skies. How strange. Normally she loved the rain, but there was something about this weather that made her feel slightly sick. She thought Shigure and Momiji felt it, too. And Haru as well. For some reason, Momiji's dream made her think about an incident nearly a week ago. She'd woken up in the middle of the night, and crept out to see light flickering underneath Haru's door. She found him sitting at his desk, busily sketching something. He looked up and gave her a small smile. "Can't sleep?"

"Neither can you," she replied. "Aren't you tired, Hatsuharu-san?"

"I'm trying to remember something," he said as his pencil continued to sweep over the paper.

"Something you saw today?"

"No. Something I dreamed of." 

Tohru blinked at that but said nothing more, content to watch Haru work. Finally, he leaned back and handed her the sheet. He must have noticed her tiny gasp, judging from the sharp curiosity in his eyes. "Do you recognize him?"

"Yes," she murmured, as bittersweet memories swept over her. The drawing was a portrait of a handsome, pale-haired boy standing at the window of a tower, gazing out into the distance with haunted eyes. A vision of a moonlit night filled her mind, of curling up on a warm lap and listening to a voice she now heard only in the wind. "_Long ago, there was a kingdom so rich and powerful and so large it covered the maps from end to end…_"

"Tohru?"

She returned the drawing to him to hide the fact that her hand was shaking. "The Prince of Snows. Yes, I know him. Mother told me the story. You dreamt of him, Hatsuharu-san?" 

He nodded. "Four nights now. I don't remember the rest of my dream, only this scene. I thought I'd remember more if I got this on paper, but so far nothing's come up yet."

"Hmm." She examined the drawing, admiring his skill, until she noticed something. "That's odd. When you look at his eyes, sometimes they seem so sad and sometimes they seem so…so cold." 

"What? Where?"

She bent over to point it out. "And look. The way you drew his mouth, sometimes he seems as if he's frowning and sometimes as if he's smiling a little, even smirking at something."

Haru's expression was one of blank amazement. "I can't be that good an artist."

She opened her mouth to comment, but Shigure chose that moment to peek in. "Eh? Ha-kun, is the storm keeping you—" He stopped at the sight of them. Tohru flushed, realizing that she'd been practically leaning on Haru's shoulder, and jumped back. Shigure's brown eyes twinkled mischievously, and he lifted a hand to his mouth in a comical expression of shock. "_Mou_, Ha-kun, shame on you for spending the night with a beautiful girl and not telling me about it."

"It's too late in the evening for you to be a pervert, Shigure-sensei," Haru said mildly.

"On the contrary," Shigure sang out, "late in the evening is the perfect time to be a pervert."

"I'm sorry," Tohru apologized. "Did we disturb you?"

Shigure smiled reassuringly. "Not at all. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I might as well get some work done."

"Without your secretary having to drag you kicking and screaming?"

Shigure gasped. "Ha-kun, you're so mean! I'm not that lazy. Besides, I like to shock Mit-chan occasionally."

Haru and Tohru exchanged glances, and she giggled. She ended up making tea for the three of them, and they sat around in Shigure's study and watched the storm, with Momiji joining them a short while later. She remembered that night with fondness. Outside the storm was raging and life was getting harder for so many people, and she knew she was being selfish, but for one crystalline moment, Tohru was happy to be with the people she loved. Shigure and Momiji and Haru had been so kind to her. She was a nobody, a lowly waitress whose mother had died and whose own relatives refused to acknowledge her, and the Sohmas took her in and gave her a home and became for her the most precious thing in the world: a family. The next evening, she heard a knock on her door and found Haru standing there. Without a word, he handed her the drawing of the Prince of Snows, which he'd stuck carefully on a piece of cardboard, and when she ran after him, he smiled and said she could have it, in memory of her mother's story. She went back to bed, the picture clasped against her chest, and let the tears come. "Thank you, Mother," she whispered, her heart full to bursting. "Thank you so much_._"

As she thought about it now, she wondered how she could have missed something so obvious. All three of them had been unusually restless since the storms began, although they tried hard to hide it from her. Sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, Shigure would drop the carefree smile he always wore and his face would become hard, even grim. She knew how worried he was. The trouble in the city weighed constantly on his mind. And Haru. She knew she promised not to worry about him, but she couldn't help it. She really wanted Haru to come home.

The thud of the knocker sounded like thunder, and Tohru nearly dropped the shirt she was mending. "Coming!" she called as she ran to the door. A man stood there with a small package in his hand, scowling up at the sky. His face softened at the sight of her. "Ah, Honda-san, good morning. A package came in for Shigure-sama at the Manor, so I came to bring it here."

"Good morning, Tadao-san." She opened the door wider for the Sohma Manor's retainer. "Please come in. You look like you could use a cup of tea."

Tadao groaned gratefully as he shrugged off his coat. "Tea sounds great. Thank you, miss."

She ushered him into the living room, swept her sewing into one corner, and went to the kitchen for the tea. When she came back with a tray, Shigure, Momiji and Tadao were sitting facing one another, their faces somber, their voices pitched too low for her to hear. The package was left unopened in the middle of the table. A short while later, the retainer took his leave, and Tohru returned to the living room to find Shigure sitting with the package in his hands, lost in thought, while Momiji stood at the window staring at nothing in particular. The atmosphere was as bleak as the weather. What could the retainer have said that made them look like this?

Tohru bit her lip, then straightened her shoulders and put on her brightest smile. "_Anoo_, I'm about to start lunch. Anything in particular you'd like to eat? I'm thinking of chocolate cake for dessert. I'm going to save a lot of lickings in the bowl for you, Momiji-kun. Shigure-san, what about—"

Shigure stood up, and something in his eyes made her falter in mid-babble. "Sh-Shigure-san?" 

He smiled, a mere stretching of his lips compared to his usual grin. "I'm sorry, Tohru-kun. I'd love to have lunch, but it seems I have—" his expression turned ironic "—a prior engagement."

She stared at them in confusion. "Shigure-san, what's going—oof!" 

Her breath whooshed out when Momiji tore himself from the window and threw himself into her arms. "Tohru, you're happy here, aren't you?" His voice was muffled against her shoulder. "You'll never leave us, won't you?"

Bewildered, Tohru embraced him. "Of course, Momiji-kun. I love you and Shigure-san and Hatsuharu-san very much. I'll never leave you, not as long as you want me to stay."

He lifted his face, and the unfocused haze in his eyes frightened her. "Promise me you won't disappear." 

"Momiji," Shigure said sharply. Momiji shuddered, and his eyes cleared. He caught the worry in her face and flashed her his most brilliant smile. "Ah, I'm sorry, Tohru. I was just talking silly."

"But what—"

"Shh." He pressed a finger over her mouth. "Shi-chan's right. A prince should never make a princess worry, ne?" When she relented, he gave her another squeeze. "_Ano ne_, did you say you were making chocolate cake?" She nodded again. "Yaree! I love chocolate cake! I have to go back to the Manor for a while, but when I come back I'll help you bake the cake. It'll be fun!" 

Shigure sighed. "Tohru-kun, I'm sorry about this, but I want you to stay home, all right? Don't go outside, it's dangerous. Wait for Ha-kun. I have a feeling we'll be seeing him soon," he said, then added with a flare of his usual humor, "Save some chocolate cake for me, ne?"

The next moment, they were gone, leaving her alone and awash in confusion. What had caused them to act so strangely? Did it have something to do with that package? The only thing she understood was the bit about Haru. Her spirits rose at the thought of him coming home. Shigure sounded so sure, and after eleven months of living with him Tohru had learned to respect his hunches.

She sighed and decided to make the best of the situation. Lunch was in order, and she wanted to make it extra-special for when Haru came home. Some smoked beef stew perhaps, and fresh steamed rice, potato salad and greens, with some hot tea and light biscuits to top it off. And of course, the chocolate cake. She giggled at the thought of the golden-haired boy hovering over the cake, his hands, shirt and chin liberally smeared with chocolate frosting. 

As she bustled about the kitchen, her thoughts drifted back to the retainer's visit. There were still so many things about her new family that she didn't understand, and the complicated politics of the Sohma clan was one of them. The Sohmas lived in the palatial Sohma Manor, and Councilman Amano Sohma was rumored to be very close to the governor. Amano Sohma, Haru's father. From there, however, things got a bit entangled. Haru never talked about his parents, but Momiji told her once that although Amano represented the family, it was Shigure who controlled the finances, and whenever family squabbles got out of hand, it was Shigure who gave the last word. It was also Shigure who'd decided that Haru and Momiji be allowed to come live with him in the modest house at the other end of the property, and not even Amano could gainsay him. Tohru puzzled endlessly about that. How was it that Shigure, who was not even in his thirties, could rank higher than the most senior member of the clan? And if Shigure _was_ the real clan head, then wouldn't it make more sense for him to live at the Manor? She kept her confusion to herself, though, and Momiji, had not volunteered anything more. _I should ask him again_, she decided as she reached for the flour tin, only to find it completely empty. As was the sugar tin. 

"That's strange. I could have sworn I still had a bag around here." Then again, she _had_ missed her regular market trips because of the storms. Well, she'd just have to go and buy some. Besides, it'd be good to see Uo-chan again. She was already putting on her cloak when she suddenly remembered Shigure's instructions. 

She hung in the hallway, unsure what to do. She did want to obey Shigure and be around to greet Haru, but there was lunch and Momiji's chocolate cake to consider. It nagged at her like an itch she couldn't reach. Anyway, it wouldn't take her long to run to Uo-chan's store, buy the items she needed, and come back. Decision made, she grabbed an umbrella then, as an afterthought, scribbled a hasty note for Haru, and headed out into the rain.

Author's Notes:

Arigatou gozaimasu for reading this fic (still!). And honto ni arigatou to all you nice folk who reviewed it. Just stick with it, onegai, onegai; the action part's coming. And Yuki'll make his entrance after Tohru sets off on her quest, MoO-mOo, I promise. I'm already working on his and Kyou's parts. 


	5. Book 1, Chapter 5 & 6

* - * - *

Three old men sat outside a bar, staring at the structure in the middle of central market plaza. It consisted of a platform with scaffolding big enough for two people to stand under. Or hang from. The ropes had yet to be added, but the men could already see the bodies swinging gently and the seething crowd watching in silence.

"So it's gonna be a hanging," one of the old-timers grunted. "You think the gov's going to come to watch this?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at the viewing balcony being constructed nearby.

"Hell, no," answered his equally grizzled companion from his mug of whiskey. "It's much too hot for the gov to come himself, and he knows it. If he steps outside that gate, the mob'll be on 'im in a tail's flick. He'll send a representative, for sure."

"Who? That old fart Sohma?"

"Likely."

They contemplated the shadowy outline of the wall. Through the curtain of rain, they could see the figures of the guards as they stood ready to pounce on any Outsider who dared attempt to set foot inside the Inner City. "This is bad," the third old man muttered. "They should've just let the two rats go. Gave 'em a pardon and all. This hanging'll only make things worse."

"The Inners're wantin' vengeance, I reckon."

"It's their own damn fault," put in a serving maid, who looked much too young for the world-weary expression on her face, as she came by with more whiskey and caught the tail end of the conversation. "They shoulda let the chieftain's son go. They shouldn't've killed those poor Ashari. All they wanted was a place to live in, and gods know this hellhole ain't much ta speak of. The Inners've always been such cold-hearted, money-grubbing bastards," she added angrily. 

The old men blinked at her. "You better calm down, miss. Talk like that'll get you into trouble."

"I don't care," she retorted. "I'm not alone in this. We ain't gonna let the Inners walk all over—"

"Excuse me."

All four turned as one. A boy dressed all in black stood there, the hood of his coat thrown off to reveal a good-looking face topped with a shock of white and black hair. The three old men eyed him curiously, while the maid gave him a scornful once-over. "Whaddya want, punk?"

"Can you tell me how to get to central gate?"

Four pairs of eyes goggled at him. "What are you, some kind of moron?" the serving maid snapped. "You're in central market. Why the hell d'ya think they call it central market? Not that them guards'll let gangster scum like you in," she added with a smirk.

"Which direction is central gate?" the boy repeated.

The old men had been watching the boy's face, and one of them poked the maid in the arm. "Hush, miss," he hissed, then turned to the boy. "Beg your pardon for her rudeness. You take that street to the left, turn right at the corner then head down main street. It leads right up to central gate, you can't miss it."

"Thank you." The boy inclined his head graciously and walked off—

"Son! You're heading in the wrong direction!" the old man called out, but the boy was already too far away.

The maid sniffed. "Cute, but what an idiot. Why'd you make me hush, anyway?"

"Because there's somethin' strange about him. He ain't what he seems to be," the old man replied. "When you get to be our age, you can tell these things."

The maid shrugged and moved away. "Things sure are getting pretty rocky 'round here, huh?" one of the old men mumbled, while his companions nodded into their whiskey.

* - * - *

Tohru walked down the street, the rain pattering on her umbrella serving as counterpoint to the tramping of her boots on the wet pavement. The wind had picked up again, making her cloak flap around her legs. She felt her cheeks pinkening from the cold, felt the raindrops against her skin—and wondered again why instead of feeling exhilarated by the sensations, she felt like huddling as far away from the rain as possible. She shivered and clutched her shopping bag tighter, and tried to distract herself by concentrating on her surroundings.

As a child, she'd loved taking long walks with her mother. She'd thought then that all of Mizaka looked like this, all elegant buildings, manicured gardens, cobbled streets and pretty shops. It had come as a shock to learn that so much beauty could hide so much ugliness. Her mother had often spoken about the Outer City, of course, but nothing prepared her for her first sight of the world beyond the wall. Dirty, crowded, and smelly and filled with people—cruel people, rough-mannered people, people who thrived in a place where anger and hopelessness carved lines into one's face before time could do the job. Life in the Inner City was genteel and peaceful. Life Outside meant a constant struggle just to make it till next week. 

Tohru had never had to live Outside, but her mother had. Her mother was an Outsider; her people were regarded as the lowest of the low, and her mother had had to learn how to survive as quickly as possible. Kyouko did more than survive. She'd fought her way up and pulled herself out of the gutter, and became in the process a legend in her own right. 

Tohru sighed, reaching up to tangle her fingers around her charm necklace. It had been nearly a year now since her mother died, but Kyouko's spirit remained strong. Sometimes, Tohru could almost see her, arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace, a wide grin on her face. Sometimes she thought she could hear her voice, telling her not to be afraid, to never give up no matter what.

__

The important thing is to choose to live, her mother had once told her. _No matter how bad things seem to be, you, Tohru, are alive _now_. No one else in this world can live as Tohru can. Take your time, do things slowly your own way, because the life you're living has a purpose. Who knows? Someday, someone might just learn to choose life because you have._

She'd thought then how easy it was to follow her mother's advice and look forward to each day. The years had taught her somewhat differently, but even during those times after her mother's death when she came close to giving up, she'd still take comfort in the beauty of the city. Then, of course, she'd met the Sohmas. She was perfectly happy with her life. 

Well, she _had_ missed her daily walks. But as she drew closer to the park, her footsteps slowed as she gazed upon the heart of the Inner City for the first time in weeks. 

"Yaori help us," she breathed. She remembered the marches, of course. Hundreds of people gathered in the streets and picketed the governor's palace to protest the closing of the gates. That was weeks ago, before the storms had driven everyone indoors, apparently without giving them a chance to clean up. Streamers hung down from lamp posts and trees. The ground was littered with leaves and branches, crumpled bits of paper and hand-sized rocks that looked out of place in the smoothly cobbled streets. More posters covered the walls, many of them rendered unreadable by the rain. Few people were out and about, and Tohru managed to cross the street with ease, and she stood at the edge of the park, dismayed. "Mother, what's happened to this place?"

The wind blew a soggy scrap of paper right at her feet. She picked it up, and found herself gazing down at a crude, pencil-drawn sketch of a young-looking face with striking, slanted eyes and lips fixed in a frown. Angry words were written at the edges of the sheet: "Free the prince!" She blinked at the face, recognizing him at last. "So this is the Ashari chieftain's son," she murmured. "The one the rebels say we kidnapped."

__

Tohru.

The sound of her name drifted into her awareness. She raised her head, her eyes widening at the red butterfly fluttering in front of her, its graceful movements hampered by neither wind nor rain. The butterfly glowed brightly against the gray sky, and as it flew it traced a shimmering path of light in the air. Tohru stared at it, mesmerized. _Akai Chou_, _s_he thought dreamily._ Is this real? _

Tohru. 

A figure was standing not far away, black cape rippling, black hair streaming in the wind. Tohru found herself looking straight into inscrutable dark eyes. The girl's gaze seemed to pierce the distance, and although Tohru had no idea what she was searching for, she met the disconcerting stare head on. The girl's lips flickered in a small smile. Tohru stepped forward, but a hand fell on her shoulder, making her jump.

"Oi, Tohru! What're you doing standing around in the rain?" 

A tall girl beamed down at her, blue eyes behind the fall of blond hair bright with curiosity. She was dressed as usual in her gangster outfit: a man's coat, silver chains around her neck, boots that could crush an unsuspecting foot. Or shin. Or jaw. She held nothing more lethal than an empty delivery bag and an umbrella, but Tohru knew that concealed somewhere in the folds of that coat was her ever-present lead pipe. "U-Uo-chan?" she stammered. 

Arisa Uotani shook her head with fond exasperation. "Typical Tohru. Dreaming on her feet again. Why're you out here, anyway? I know the café's closed so it can't be work."

"I was just—" She stopped. "There was a girl standing right there. Didn't you see her? And the butterfly, too."

"Girl? Butterfly?" Arisa glanced around. "There's nobody in this park but us."

"But she was—" Tohru trailed off. It was useless; both the girl and the butterfly had vanished. "I'm sorry. I guess I _was_ dreaming on my feet."

Arisa shoved her hair back and glowered at the sky. "Shit. The wind's getting stronger. Come on, let's get out of here."

"What about you? What are you doing here?" Tohru asked, raising her voice over the rain.

"Oh, somebody at Council Hall had some grub delivered." Arisa lifted the bag to show her. "No rain's going stop those poor, overworked bastards from having their dumplings. But you haven't answered my question," she added, giving her friend a sidelong glance. "I'm surprised Shigure-san let you out of the house, what with all the stuff that's been going on."

Tohru flushed guiltily. "Actually, he didn't, but I needed a few things from your store, so I—I snuck out."

"Heeh?" Arisa cocked an eyebrow in amusement as she and Tohru crowded into the Uotani-san's bakery and grocer shop. Arisa's father, a portly, mustachioed man, looked up as they came in. "Those guys at Council Hall pay up?" he asked his daughter.

"Yeah." Arisa waved the money. "They know what I'd do to them if they didn't."

"Don't you be scaring the customers, girl," her father scolded her, but Arisa merely laughed. Tohru smiled as she watched the two. It seemed like an odd father-daughter relationship, but there had been a time when Arisa and her father barely spoke to each other at all. Arisa had once been a member of one of the gangs running wild in the Outer City until she broke away from them. She'd reconciled with her father since, and her reputation and extremely persuasive manner with her lead pipe pretty much ensured that nobody would be pilfering candies or piling up debts at Uotani-san's store anytime soon. 

Uotani-san headed off to the backroom, admonishing his daughter to mind the store. Arisa made a face at his disappearing back. "Gods, there he goes again. Ever since he and his buddies got suckered into that reformist group, the old man's barely around. I ought to buy this store out from right under his nose." Tohru laughed, and Arisa grinned back. "All right, what're those things you need so badly you had to sneak around behind Shigure-san's back for them?"

As Tohru rattled off her list, Arisa moved about the shelves to fetch the items. "Here, I'll throw in some of that Castrian ink Shigure-san likes. He's always coming around here for it. And tell Momiji-kun sorry but we're out of rabbit pellets. I was supposed to go Outside to pick up the delivery, but all those new rules about gate passes are such a pain. And these storms aren't helping. I mean, what the hell is wrong with this weather—"

"It's the end of a dream."

Arisa glanced at Tohru, but she was staring out the window, her eyes oddly unfocused. Tohru herself was unaware that she'd spoken. She'd happened to turn her head and there, standing across the street, seemingly oblivious to the wind and rain, was the black-haired girl. As Tohru met the dark-eyed gaze, she felt as if electric tremors were zipping across her brain, and she was swept along by the surge of power. 

__

Tohru.

The whisper in her mind again. _What do you want? _she asked.

__

I've been waiting for you, Tohru. Will you come?

Come where? Who are you?

Instead of an answer, an image of a red butterfly glowing bright against the sky flashed in her mind. The butterfly melted into the image of a woman with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of the sunset. Tohru's heart twisted painfully. _Mother._

Your people are waiting for you, Princess. Will you come?

P-Princess?! Tohru thought frantically, remembering Momiji and his nickname for her. _I'm sorry. I don't understand. Please, how do you know my mother? _

Will you come? The voice began to fade. The girl was walking away.

__

Wait! Tohru cried out. "Wait! Don't go!"

"Tohru!" A hand grabbed her shoulder, breaking her trance. Tohru shuddered and shot a wide-eyed gaze at an alarmed Arisa. "Uo-chan?" she rasped. "The girl in black, did you see her?"

"Tohru, I didn't see a damn thing," Arisa snapped, her temper prickling from sheer anxiety. "What's going on? You've been gawking at that window and babbling nonsense—"

Tohru drew back in surprise. "I was speaking? What did I say?"

"Something about the end of a dream. And 'the thirteenth has come,' whatever that means. And you seemed about to tear your necklace right off." With a start, Tohru realized that she'd been gripping her charm necklace and quickly dropped her hand. "Tohru, _are_ you okay?" Arisa went on in a much gentler tone. "You kept saying your mother's old nickname over and over again."

__

The Red Butterfly. "Akai…Chou."

"Yeah." Arisa held her hands tightly. "Tohru, I love you. Those three Sohma guys love you. You've been so brave and strong all these months, but we know you've been missing your mother. I mean, the gods knows I miss her too. But you don't have to keep it all to yourself. We're here to help you, you know."

Tohru smiled tremulously. "Thank you, but really, I'm fine. I have you and Shigure-san and Hatsuharu-kun and Momiji-kun. I do miss Mother, but that wasn't what I was—" 

__

Will you come?

Her breath caught as her mind was filled with the image of the girl in black.

"Tohru?"

"I'm so sorry, Uo-chan. I have to go." Tohru hastily refastened her cloak and grabbed her umbrella, ignoring her friend's bewildered expression. 

"Tohru, what's going on? Where're you going?"

Tohru paused at the doorway, then gave her friend a bright smile. "Somebody's waiting for me." And then she was gone.

"Who's waiting—Tohru, wait!" Arisa darted around the counter but at that moment, a group of youngsters tumbled through the door, looking as if they fully intended to wait out the rain. She ground her teeth then noticed a crumpled sheet of paper lying on the floor, where Tohru had apparently dropped it in her rush. She picked it up and stared at the unsmiling face of the bandit chief's missing son, then at the spot where Tohru had vanished round the corner. "What in hell is going on with that girl?" she grumbled.


	6. Book 1, Chapter 7

* - * - *

She knew where the girl in black was. The image was so compelling, it was almost as if someone had hung a picture in front of her. The rain was practically a vertical river, but Tohru ran on, following instincts she didn't know she had. A voice in her head—her sanity, perhaps?—wondered what in the world she was doing. Shigure was going to kill her. What could she tell him, after all? That she'd disobeyed him because she wanted to bake a stupid cake then took a fancy to a girl nobody else could see? Even she was having trouble believing her own story. She had better stop this nonsense and go back, apologize to Uo-chan, scamper back home and wait for Haru like she was supposed to. 

The voice was drowned out by another onslaught of images. Her fifth birthday, when her mother had taken off the charm bracelet and necklace she always wore and fastened them around her small arm and neck. A strange bedroom, with a woman standing over a man's sleeping form, her black hair rippling about her naked body, her dark eyes glinting coldly. A red-haired boy kneeling beside a brown-haired girl on a ship's deck, an odd mixture of disgust and compassion on his face. A little girl lying as still as death while a little boy sat beside her, her hand gripped tightly in his own. A tower rising above a misty lake, and a pale-haired boy standing at the window, gazing up at a moonless sky with violet eyes that were both infinitely cold and infinitely sad.

She stumbled as the last image flashed through her mind. "Please stop," she muttered, pressing a hand over her eyes as if to block out the visions. "Please. I don't understand any of these."

__

Come, Tohru. I will hold them off. 

"Hold them off?" She dropped her hand and looked around with rising consternation. The massive gray wall loomed up before her, with what seemed like hundreds of guards patrolling the area. A black gate opened up a few meters away. Somehow, she'd managed to run all the way across the Inner City toward the central gate.

She balked. "Oh no, not Outside. Shigure-san warned me. Besides, I didn't bring my gate pass."

__

You don't need your gate pass. Just do as I say.

"But—"

__

Please, Tohru. 

She swallowed. _Mother, what do I do?_ She looked back at the street she had come from. She could turn back. She _should_ turn back. It was the right thing to do…wasn't it?

__

The important thing is to choose to live.

She bit her lip, then began to walk toward the gate. She could feel the stony stares from the guards, but to her surprise, none of them tried to stop her. She came to the gate, where the sour-faced gatekeeper immediately barred her way. "What do you want?" 

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she found her voice. "I—I'd like to go Outside, please."

"Inners are not to go Outside without a special permit. Governor's orders."

She blinked, taken aback. _Now_ what was she going to do?

The gatekeeper eyed her suspiciously. "What's your name?"

"H-Honda. Tohru Honda. My father was Kazuya of the Honda clan," she added helpfully.

"Honda, eh?" The gatekeeper screwed up his face. "I know the Hondas. One of the sons shacked up with an Outsider. The family disowned him. It was that red-haired slut, you remember her?" he said to the snickering guards beside him.

Tohru bowed her head. Apparently they didn't need her gate pass to give her grief about her mixed heritage. "Please let me pass," she whispered.

The gatekeeper laughed nastily. "Half-bloods don't have any problems going out. It's getting back _in_ that's the problem." He leaned in closer, forcing her to step back. "You plan on showing me your gate pass, girlie—"

He choked and turned white. As Tohru watched in shock, the man staggered back, his eyes bugging out and his hands going to his throat. The guards looked at him in alarm but made no move to help him. Judging from their bewildered expressions, it was likely they couldn't.

__

Come, Tohru.

Her limbs felt as they'd turned to sand, while the gatekeeper gurgled and glared at her with a mixture of outrage and terror. "What have you done?" she gasped.

__

Hurry.

She ran past the frozen guards, and with eyes half-closed, she drove into an alley, hoping to lose herself in the crowd. Only when she slipped on a piece of fruit and nearly fell into a puddle did she slow down. Clutching her cloak tighter around her—she'd lost her umbrella during her mad dash—she shoved dripping strands of hair off her face and looked around. 

She was in a marketplace. Then again, most of the Outer City was a market place, a place where ships and city dwellers came to trade. But the word "marketplace" seemed inadequate to describe the chaos around her. Stalls were crammed into every corner, spilling onto the streets in a profusion of decomposing fruits and vegetables, rags and animal droppings and assorted piles of refuse. There were people everywhere, shouting their wares and screaming at children running underfoot. The smell hit her all at once, salty sea air mingling with the sickly sweet stench of rotting fruit, and she swallowed convulsively. A man bumped into her, nearly sending her stumbling into a pile of apples. He looked over his shoulder to swear at her, and was knocked over himself when a small troop of guards galloped by on their horses. 

Feeling dizzy, Tohru edged away from the street and tried to figure out what to do. The wall was only a gray line over the rooftops. She'd managed to run farther than she'd thought. A shiver of dread ran down her spine. It was the first time she'd ever gone Outside alone. She and her mother had always gone together, and later at least one of the Sohmas always went with her on market trips. Now that she was alone, the marketplace seemed so much more immense and hostile and—she shook herself. No time for that now. She came here to find the girl in black, not stand around quaking in her boots. This was her mother's world, after all. There was nothing to fear.

Her brave thoughts were jarred by the sight of several men looking in her direction from a nearby alley. The speculative gleam in their eyes made chills break out on her arms. She walked quickly, not sure where she was going as long as it took her far away from the men. She glanced back over her shoulder and her heart jumped when she saw that the men had followed her. She quickened her pace, but the men were still there.

"Oh somebody please help me," she mumbled and began running in earnest, ducking into alleys in an attempt to shake the men off. She turned a corner, looked over her shoulder, and ran right into a brick wall. She staggered, rubbing her head, then gasped when the men appeared at the end of the street. She pressed herself against the wall, and nearly screamed when a hand closed around her arm.

It was the girl in black. "This way," she said, and pulled Tohru into a side street. It opened up into a courtyard, in the middle of which a platform of some sort was being built. There were liquor stores all around, but the faces that looked out of them were vacant and empty-eyed, and Tohru knew with a sinking feeling that they were not going to get any help from that quarter.

The girls ran to the center of the courtyard, and when they could run no further, the black-haired girl turned to face their pursuers. The men had fanned out in different directions, surrounding them. Tohru shrank against the girl's side. She looked at her, and to Tohru's surprise, the dark eyes were completely serene. Lifting Tohru's hand, she touched the back of it to her lips in an oddly reverential gesture. "Don't be afraid, Princess," she said softly. "This was meant to be." 

The men pounced. One of them grabbed Tohru's arm, and she shrieked and pulled away…and then things became rather confused. She stumbled back and the black-haired girl stepped between her and her attacker, raised her arm—and lightning shot out of her open palm right into the man's face. He screamed and fell back, his body jerking like a maddened puppet. His companions froze, but Tohru wasn't sure what shook them more, the sight of their fallen companion or the sudden appearance of a vengeful demon with a shock of white hair on top of a black coat, who promptly began thrashing them to within an inch of their lives. The girl lifted her arm again and Tohru wavered, unsure whether to help or flee, but then the demon in the black coat spun around so that she saw his face for the first time. She gave a cry and began to run, but didn't see the body that was flying toward her at top speed until it crashed into her, sending her sprawling onto the street. Her head slammed against something hard, and blackness swallowed her up.


	7. Book 1, Chapter 8

* - * - *

Shigure stopped in front of what had to be the most inconspicuous shop in all of Mizaka. The entire building was old and decrepit, and as it stood among the elegant shops it gave the impression of a toad squatting among water lilies. Still, he could think of few places he liked half as well. He pushed the door open and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. 

The lamplight flickered as he shut the door, making the shadows dance over the bookshelves. Picking up one of the new titles on the counter, he opened the book and breathed in the dry, crisp scent.

"Nothing compares to the smell of a new book. Isn't that right, my lord?"

He looked up at the wizened old man who emerged from the backroom. "Oh, I don't know. The scent of a woman's perfume is pretty damn incomparable too." 

The old man sniffed. "Young men are too energetic. At your age, my lord, you should already be thinking about taking a bride. Wild oats very rarely produce legitimate heirs, you know."

Shigure laughed as he put the book down. "Me, married? When I'm having so much fun? And by the way, Miyamoto-ojiichan, you really shouldn't 'my lord' me anymore. Times have changed. Even the 'sama' the people at the Manor insist on tagging on my name sounds too stuffy by a half."

"I agreed to that only when others are present," Miyamoto retorted. "The old traditions must be kept alive if one is to have a sense of history, as you ought to know, Shigure-obochama," he added pointedly, as if to remind Shigure that not so long ago he'd been running around in short pants making mischief and getting his behind smacked by this vanguard of tradition.

Shigure shook his head fondly. "Now you sound like one of your books. Non-fiction, I might add. But that's not what I came here for." He reached into his coat and pulled out an object, laying it on the counter. "What can you tell me about this?"

The old man's eyes widened and his breath hissed in his throat. With a shaking hand he reached out and lifted the object, letting it dangle between his fingers. "By Akkan," he breathed. "I never imagined I'd lay eyes on this in my lifetime. My lord, where did you find this?"

"Never mind that for now. I'm guessing you know this thing, then?"

"Yes. Oh yes." As Miyamoto explained what the object was, Shigure struggled to maintain his neutral expression. At that moment he would have given half his fortune to be able to know just who had sent this object to him, and why. Or more precisely, why _now_. He suddenly realized that the old man had finished his explanation, and simply staring at the thing with a mixture of awe and dread on his lined features. "Is there something else you'd like to tell me, ojiichan?"

"Just that for it to appear now—" The old man swallowed and composed himself. "My lord, do you believe that there is no such thing as completely random occurrences? That everything that happens is part of a greater chain of events guided by an unseen force?"

Shigure raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me if I believe in destiny?"

"Well, for lack of a better word, yes."

He thought about his dreams and Momiji's visions. The Ashari and the chieftain's missing boy. The storms. Kana's letter, and now this. He remembered an old saying among the fishing villages: Every river flows into the same ocean. Everything was connected. Unbelievable, really. He was a man who dealt regularly in the realm of the imagination, but he was still leery about melodramatic concepts like fate and destiny. As far as he was concerned, they had nothing to do with reality. But now…the image of a girl in a blue housedress flickered in his mind. It seemed there were quite a few things he needed to think about. 

He straightened as his senses picked up another presence. Somebody was coming, somebody who was looking for him in particular. The newcomer was not alone, but Shigure already knew who he was and was mildly amazed that the man could manage with only four aides bowing and scraping at his feet. "Better bring out your finest coffee, ojiichan. You're going to have guests." He tilted his head. "Or brandy. I get the feeling one of us will be needing a drink after this."

Miyamoto did not appear surprised at Shigure's sudden announcement. "Should I bring out my finest cigars as well?" he said dryly, making the younger man laugh.

A few minutes later, the door opened and a tall, impeccably suited man walked in, followed by four others. Mud-brown hair was swept back from an angular face, softened not at all by the pair of spectacles perched on a thin nose. The man's sharp gaze swept over the room and rested on the dark-haired man leaning nonchalantly against the counter.

Shigure smiled. "Governor Takei. And here I thought you had no sense of poetry in you."

"Sohma-san," the governor returned stiffly, and Shigure's amusement heightened at his visible struggle to keep his dislike of him from showing. "I'd like to speak to you, if you please."

"I'm sure you would." Shigure plucked up the bottle and snifter Miyamoto brought in on a tray. "Brandy? You look like you could use some warming up, ne, Makoto-san?"

The governor's lips tightened at Shigure's casual use of his first name. "In _private_, Sohma-san."

Shigure glanced at Miyamoto. "The upper room's available?" The old man nodded and Shigure led the governor to the upstairs parlor, where he immediately slumped down on a couch. The governor disdained to sit, choosing instead to stand at the window, his back to him. "Really, Makoto-san, the lengths you go to just to get a signed copy of my book," Shigure drawled.

"Very droll, Sohma-san," came the dry reply. "But tell me, how is Amano-san doing these days?" 

Shigure tensed. The question seemed harmless, but he didn't make a living manipulating words for nothing. This was going to be worse than he thought. "My uncle's fine, although I think you'd be in a better position to know. After all, his friends are your friends, too," he said silkily.

"Indeed. A very loyal, very _honest_ man, your uncle. No doubt an exemplary leader of your clan."

"What's this about, Takei?" Shigure said, tiring of the verbal fencing.

"I need information, Sohma." The governor faced him, his spectacles glinting in the weak light, hiding his eyes. "The execution of the bandits will be held two days before the Sun Festival, and there is talk of an impending march by the Outers that day. I want to know who's behind it."

Shigure took a sip of brandy before speaking. "Why'd you close the gates?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why'd you close the gates?" he repeated. "One by one, you ordered the gates closed. You know perfectly well that doing so would kill off the markets servicing them. The Inner businessmen may have lost some income, but the Outsiders lost their jobs. This hostility and aggression you're so worried about, your actions were all but begging for them."

Takei stared at him as if deciding whether to answer him or not. Finally, his shoulders sagged and he sank down into a chair opposite Shigure's. "You know your history, Sohma. You know the reason why the wall was built. Two hundred years ago, this city was nearly destroyed by a powerful invading force. In the end, our ancestors managed to defeat the invaders and rebuild our city, and the wall was built to ensure that such a thing would never happen again. However," he added darkly, "I believe history is about to repeat itself, and I intend to thwart it before it starts."

"Why come to me then? Why do you think I have the answers to your questions?"

This time, it was Takei who smiled. "Because Shigure Sohma knows things. Isn't that what they say? Shigure Sohma isn't just the charming, eccentric novelist he seems to be; he's a sharp businessman with an uncanny gift of knowing when and where something will happen. If I remember right, you gave orders for your ships to set sail ahead of schedule, just before the storms hit. As a result, you've kept the damage to your vessels to a minimum. Indeed, Shigure Sohma is a difficult man to surprise. Isn't that what they say?"

__

Damn him. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Makoto-san," Shigure said, laughing. "You and I both know that all it takes is a good intelligence network to do business in this city."

"And yet it is to _you_ I come with my questions." The smile on Takei's face turned cunning. "Really, Sohma-san, your uncle spoke so glowingly about this gift of yours. You don't intend to disappoint him, do you?"

__

Damn him to hell. And my uncle, too, Shigure seethed, the amused smile never leaving his face. All those times he'd told Momiji and Haru not to draw attention to their abilities, and he ended up making the same mistake he'd warned them about. It was his fault for using his gift too much. Damn it. There was nothing for it, he'd have to play Takei's game for now. "_Maa, _all this praise will go to my head. Well, then. As far as I can tell, the heart of the unrest is a group that's been wanted for arrest for a large number of crimes. They'd broken up but have reformed, stylizing themselves as freedom fighters for the Outsiders."

"That explains the rash of crimes on Inner merchants." 

He nodded. "These people have become heroes in the eyes of the Outsiders. Getting them to betray the group will be difficult, which is why I strongly suggest you reconsider the execution. The last thing you need is for these rabble-rousers to have a new set of martyrs to the cause."

"These _criminals_ have murdered at least three Inners, Sohma," Takei bit out. "This is not the time for leniency. These so-called Ashari freedom fighters have been terrorizing the fishing villages, and now they've moved their operations to the Outer City. That these foreign devils would overrun our city with their trumped-up charges of kidnapping and murder and incite our own people against us? Unforgivable! They must be taught a lesson—"

"They are not Ashari."

Takei paused in mid-rant. "What did you say?" 

Ignoring the chill radiating from the governor, Shigure drew out a cigarette from a small silver case and lit it. "I don't believe these rebels in the Outer City are Ashari. Cigarette, Makoto-san? No? Anyway, the real Ashari confined their attacks on the villages. As for these rebels in the Outer City, if they're Ashari, then I'm the goddess of the moon."

The governor looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "How do you explain their ridiculous accusations that we kidnapped their chieftain's son and murdered his companions then?"

Shigure took a deep drag, looking as if he were considering the question. His mind, however, was racing far ahead in search of the answer. It was his gift and his curse, this peculiar ability to touch minds across distances. It was admittedly rather limited, given that he could connect easily with some minds and not with others, but it was undeniably useful. With his 'assistants'—people with whom he could link minds and could trust with his secret—scattered all over the city making it their business to learn things, all he needed to do was reach out and pluck the information from them, often while carrying on a decent conversation at his end. The moment the governor began plying him with questions, he'd stretched his mind toward his people. However, they hadn't yet been able to dig up anything more and Shigure had resigned himself to bluffing his way out of this interrogation until another mind, obviously one far stronger than his, reached out to _him_. It was a miracle he'd been able to conceal his shock from Takei. The sensation was disorienting but not unpleasant. Images tumbled into his consciousness just quickly enough for him to weave them into coherent revelations, and with the governor watching him, Shigure was unable to do anything more than gratefully accept the help.

He held the last question up, and images flashed behind his eyes. A red-haired boy leading some men through a dark, dense forest. A settlement hidden somewhere between the Deadlands and the city. A proud-looking man staring down at the mutilated body of a warrior who still clutched in his hands a battered shield bearing the emblem of Mizaka. A girl traveling alone through the desolate hills, a small brown pig trotting at her heels. The last image confused him. For some reason, the girl reminded him of Tohru, although he couldn't imagine why. Shigure wasn't the visionary in the family, so it couldn't have been a glimpse of the future. He set it aside to ponder it later, as the governor's eyes were practically boring a hole right through his head. "It's not a trumped-up charge, as far as the Ashari are concerned," he explained. "The boy was leading an exploratory expedition when they were ambushed by what looked to be Mizakan scouts. None of his companions survived, and he himself was taken." Mizakan scouts? Nobody in the city had issued any order to capture the refugee boy, or Shigure would have known. Who would take to the trouble to deceive these people? And what was the point? 

Takei grunted, reluctantly impressed, and Shigure would have enjoyed the moment more if his head hadn't been aching from the barrage of information flooding through the psychic link he shared with—_her_? His unexpected savior was female? Now _this_ was interesting. He fought to keep the speculative grin off his face as he probed the link, and the vision of a hauntingly beautiful girl with long black hair streaming over her black cape filled his mind. Cape? With a few mental tweaks, he adjusted the image so that the girl stood clothed only in that luxurious cascade of hair. Dark eyes flashed, and in a ripple of power the cape returned.

__

Mou, couldn't you have kept it off just a little while longer? he whined.

She gave him an inscrutable look before turning away and vanishing behind an impenetrable mental wall. _Idiot_, came the whispered thought. 

Now he was really intrigued. The governor however chose that moment to speak again. "Where is their base of operation, this group you spoke of?"

__

Damned if I know, Shigure thought peevishly. Takei was using him to patch up holes in his own intelligence, and he was getting annoyed. He tossed the question through the link, not really caring if he got an answer, and the image she returned nearly sent him to his feet. _No, impossible_. _They were destroyed two hundred years ago. Their power was broken at the price of our own._

__

If you doubt, Sohma-san, then look to yourself and your two cousins. The thread of fate binds you too, whether you believe in it or not, she replied coolly before breaking the link. 

"Sohma, I asked you a question."

"I heard you, Takei," Shigure said curtly, his patience wearing thin. "My subordinates have yet to find out where their base is. Why don't you try the warehouses near the pier? There's always something going on there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

He stood up and headed to the door, but the governor's voice halted him. "Sohma-san, I suggest you treat this matter with more respect. Lawbreakers exist even in the highest circles, after all, and even Mizaka's best families have a secret or two. Or three. Isn't that right, Shigure?"

Shigure smiled coldly. "And I suggest, Makoto, that you remember who you're speaking to, or you'll find out much more than you bargained for. You know the way out, ne?"

He left, shutting the door behind him. Downstairs, he found Miyamoto trying to calm a nervous Mit-chan. "Get his coat. You're leaving," he told the governor's aides. Takei followed shortly, and the three watched the party depart in silence.

Miyamoto spoke first. "I take it that didn't go very well?"

Shigure chuckled. "Ojiichan, ever the master of the understatement. _Are_? Mit-chan, get a grip, it's only the governor. The flies are getting in," he joked.

Mit-chan closed her mouth with a snap. "Sensei, we have problem," she said to Shigure.

He sighed. "Don't I know it. Any progress on that thing I wanted you to look into?"

"No, nothing yet, but that's not the problem. It's Tohru-chan."

He looked up sharply. "What about her?"

"She's gone. I went back to the house to ask her some questions, and I just found this note—Sensei? What's going on—Sensei, wait!"

But Shigure was already out the door and running.


	8. Book 1, Chapter 9

* - * - *

Tohru opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. Yaori, she hurt. Her head was throbbing, and her ribs felt as if she'd tried to cram herself into a pickle jar. She bit her lip but couldn't stop a small moan from escaping. 

A shadow moved over her, and a voice spoke. "Lie still, Tohru. You're safe."

Her eyes flew open, and she gazed up at the familiar face topped with spiky white and black hair. Calm gray eyes smiled back. "Hatsuharu-san!" She sat up then winced at the ache in her ribs. "_Ite!_ I guess I sat up too qui—Hatsuharu-san, you're hurt!"

Haru grasped her shoulders to keep her from jumping up to find something to patch up the cut on his cheek. "It's nothing." When she started to protest, he pressed a finger on her lips. "I'm all right. It's you I'm worried about. That man practically squashed you flat." 

"Hatsuharu-san—" She trailed off, then broke into a wobbly grin. "I'm so glad you're safe," she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "What happened to you? Where've you been? How did you know where to find us?" She pulled away and noticed their surroundings for the first time. They were sitting on a patch of straw covered by a tattered sack. The light from a small fire cast a yellow-orange glow upon the grimy, mold-covered walls and rotting shelves of what looked like an abandoned kitchen. Her cloak and Haru's coat were spread on the floor to dry, while a dented watering can caught the rain drops dripping down from the leaky roof.

"Don't worry," Haru said. "We're safe here for the moment." 

She nodded, the action setting her head to pounding, then she suddenly remembered something. "The girl in black! She didn't get hurt, did she?" Her shoulders slumped when she recalled that Uo-chan couldn't see her. Well, her friend couldn't, but the men the girl had… zapped? struck down? cursed?... certainly had. "Hatsuharu-san, you saw her, didn't you?"

"Yes," he said, surprising her somewhat.

"Is she all right?"

He shrugged. "Who knows? She disappeared when the guards came."

"Oh." _Mother, please let her be all right, _she prayed_. She was very strange, but she _did_ try to help me_. Out of habit, she reached up to clasp her charm necklace, and went pale when her fingers encountered only bare skin. "My necklace! It's gone!"

She hunted frantically through the makeshift matting, and Haru had to grab her arm to stop her. "Calm down, Tohru. I have it." He pulled the necklace out from his pocket and dropped it in her hand. Tohru stared at it, her eyes shuttered. "The cord broke and it was impossible to fix it, so I used one of my own chains. Luckily, none of the charms were missing. There's thirteen of them, right?" When she said nothing, he peered into her face. "Tohru?"

She was crying silently. Haru stared at her. "Tohru? Look, I'm sorry I messed with your necklace. I'll find another cord, and—"

"No. No, don't." She took a deep breath and smiled. "It's beautiful. I love the way it looks now. Thank you for fixing it." She touched the little animal charms, feeling as if her heart was breaking. _Just like last time_, she thought wretchedly. _Oh Mother, what have I done?_

Haru's normally impassive face was looking distinctly confused. "Why are you crying then?"

She wiped at her tears and explained. "Mother gave this to me. Back then, it was a necklace and a bracelet. I'd always been fascinated by the charms. See? There were twelve animals on the bracelet—the mouse, the ox, the tiger, the rabbit, the dragon, the snake, the horse, the sheep, the monkey, the rooster, the dog and the pig." She pointed out the animals one by one. "But the charm I loved best was the cat on the necklace. I wondered why the cat had to stay apart from the other animals, but Mother said that was how it had to be until it was time for the cat to join the twelve. One day, I was working at the café, and Sato-san told me to buy more sugar. Clumsy me, I didn't see the carriage, and when I jumped aside I hit this signpost…and the bracelet broke. The next minute, Sato-san came running to me saying something about an accident." Her voice grew softer until it was barely audible. "That was the day Mother died. I tried to fix the bracelet, but the cord was completely worn through, so I knotted the cat in its own circle to keep it apart from the others, then I strung the twelve along with it. It seemed right at the time, but now…"

She stared bemusedly at the necklace. The cat was still in the middle, but this time there was no knot separating it from the others. All thirteen charms lay side by side in a circle of silver. "I know it's silly, but I like to think the charms are sort of, well, an omen," she said with a small, self-conscious laugh. "Mother said they were carved from Lady Yaori's sacred stone, and I always believed they had some sort of power. The day the bracelet broke, the day Mother died—my life changed that day. And now…"

And now her necklace had broken again. The last time it happened, Tohru had lost the person who meant the world to her. Was she going to lose someone she loved again? _Oh please, Mother, let me be wrong. Let this be just a silly, childish notion I have. I don't want to lose anyone else._

Silently, Haru took the necklace then pushed her hair aside to fasten it around her neck. "Hatsuharu-san?" she said wonderingly.

His hands closed around hers. "It'll be all right," he said, the steel unmistakable in his voice. "We won't let anything or anyone hurt you, Tohru. The honor of the Sohma stands behind this."

Slowly, she smiled, both surprised and touched by his oddly formal-sounding words. "Thank you, Hatsuharu-san. You've all been so kind. I'm nothing but a burden, and now I've even gotten you in trouble." She thought of Shigure and quailed at the idea of having to face him. This was all her fault. If Shigure decided to toss her out on her ear, it would only be what she deserved. "I'm so sorry for everything," she whispered. "Please, can we go home? I want to apologize to Shigure-san and Momiji-kun and Uo-chan. They must be so angry with me."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't think we can do that."

"What do you mean?" 

"We can't go out just yet. The guards are still looking for us."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, the guards who came to help us."

"They didn't come to help us, Tohru," he said bluntly. "They came to arrest us."

Her body turned to ice. "A-arrest us?" she echoed, certain she'd heard him wrong. "Why would they do that? Those men chased us, and if it weren't for you and the girl in black—" She gasped, remembering the incident at the gate. She'd tried to go outside without her pass, and the girl had done…_something_ to the gatekeeper. Of course they'd think it was her. She swallowed around the knot of fear lodged in her throat. Oh Yaori, was she going to be thrown into prison now? And Haru, too, because he'd been gallant enough to help her?

She didn't realize that she'd spoken out loud until Haru sighed. "It's a bit worse than that."

"W-what could possibly be worse than that?" 

"We've been—" He stopped and cocked his head. "They're here. It took them long enough." 

Tohru listened, but there was nothing but the steady plop-plop of the water dripping into the can. She opened her mouth to speak, and then she heard it, the sound of footsteps and the low murmur of voices. Familiar voices. Panic sent her to her feet. She wanted to apologize, didn't she? Well, here was her chance. And just to spice things up, she was going to have to tell them that she and Haru were now fugitives from the law as well. An image of her broken necklace danced in her head, and she prayed for strength. 

The footsteps stopped and a door creaked opened. She braced herself to meet their collective outrage, and was nearly flung backward by a golden-haired projectile. Her bruised ribs screamed in protest, but she bit back a yelp of pain and wrapped her arms around the warm body anyway. 

Thankfully, Haru rescued her a moment later. "Let her go, Momiji, you're hurting her."

Momiji released his death-grip around her, and his golden eyes shone with so much concern that she wanted to weep. "Tohru, Tohru, are you all right?"

"Yes, I—mmf!" A pair of arms wound around her head, smothering her. "U-Uo-chan?" she gasped as she came up for air. _Even Uo-chan was here?_

"Tohru, you poor thing, we were so worried about you!" Arisa cried, giving her one last squeeze. "Are you all right? Did anyone hurt you? What the hell happened to you, anyway?"

"Um, Uo-chan, I—" Shigure came in. Tohru shrank back fearfully, then recovered herself. Better to get it over with. Stepping away from Arisa's and Momiji's embrace, she faced them and bowed. "I'm sorry, all of you. This is all my fault. I got you into so much trouble. I'm so sorry."

Shigure strode toward her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the blow. When it didn't come, she dared to raise her head a little, and squeaked in surprise when she found herself swept into a warm hug. "Now you've done it, Tohru-kun," he murmured laughingly. "After that scare you gave me, my poor old heart can only be healed by your chocolate cake from now on." 

Laughter bubbled up despite herself, and she steeled herself against the burgeoning joy. It wasn't over yet. Screwing her eyes shut, she sucked in a breath and poured out the whole sorry tale. 

Silence followed her confession. She stared at her feet, enveloped in a cloud of gloom. Finally, Arisa spoke up. "Well, that explains the guards. They were swarming all over looking for you, or at least a couple who looked like you."

"How did you get past the guards at the gate?" Tohru had to ask.

"I did that!" Momiji chimed in. "They wouldn't let us through at first because they thought I was underage, but when I showed them my gate pass, they became really helpful."

"Hell, yeah." Arisa laughed. "You should've seen the look on their faces when they saw how old he really was. Can't blame them, though. Even I have trouble believing this cute kid's actually as old as Haru-kun." She ruffled his blond hair while the "cute kid" beamed. 

"But how did you know where to find us?" 

Momiji and Haru exchanged glances, and as one turned toward Shigure, who had fallen silent during the conversation. Sensing the lull, he looked up and Tohru saw the strain in his brown eyes. "You can tell them. It's a little too late to be keeping secrets, especially from Tohru-kun."

Haru's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean it's too late?"

"The game's changed, Ha-kun." Sighing, Shigure turned to Tohru, who was watching them with apprehensive eyes. "You haven't told her yet, have you?" he said to Haru, who shook his head.

"Tell me what?" Tohru asked as strains of alarm began to hum through her.

"Tohru, you're wanted for arrest on a very serious charge, one that's going to be extremely difficult to extricate you from, even for me."

"I know," she said miserably. "I went past the gate keeper without showing my pass, and—"

"It's worse than that," Shigure stated grimly. "You're charged with performing an act of magic and using magic to injure a citizen of Mizaka. That charge carries the penalty of death."

All the blood drained from Tohru's face. "Death," she echoed dully.

"Witnesses saw you and Ha-kun together when you allegedly cast a spell that injured several men. If the guards capture you, you'll be brought to trial before the Council and Ha-kun, as your accomplice, will be imprisoned for life. But you, Tohru Honda, will be publicly executed."

"Executed." She swayed on her feet, Arisa and Momiji moving to catch her. Shigure's words rang endlessly, following her into the darkness. Executed. She was innocent, but she was to be killed. People wanted her dead. In her mind her necklace broke over and over again, the charms slipping away from her numb fingers. How strange. She never imagined it was her own life she stood to lose. And to think that all she wanted was some flour and sugar so she could bake them a cake. Well, it didn't look like she was ever going to get a chance to bake that cake now. 

There were voices around her, sharp with anger. Uo-chan and Momiji. Haru. Shigure. They were arguing—over her? She lifted her head. Momiji and Arisa were flanking her, their arms keeping her upright. Haru was standing off to one side, his silvery gaze fixed on a spot on the wall. And Shigure, watching her carefully, as if he were waiting for something to happen. She didn't know what it was he was waiting for, so she shook off the arms around her and stood in front of Haru. The desolation in her eyes kept him silent. "Hatsuharu-san," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

__

It isn't just my life I've destroyed. It's Hatsuharu-san's life, too. And Shigure-san's and Momiji-kun's and Uo-chan's. I love them so much, and I've ruined everything.

"I'm so sorry, all of you."

__

I'm so sorry, Mother.

Live, Tohru. 

Warmth filled her, warmth and light and the sweet, heady smell of the wind, the scent of freedom. Her mother stood before her, her red-gold hair shimmering against her white cloak, her sea-blue eyes filled with love. _No matter how bad things seem to be, you still have life and you still have love. Believe in that love, Tohru. Live for it. _

Mother, I—

Kyouko smiled. _The time for sad stories is over. Your Prince of Snows is waiting for you._

"Tohru?" Arisa was shaking her by the shoulders. "Tohru, come on, wake up!"

She opened her eyes. Faces surrounded her, all wearing identical worried expressions, and she blinked in confusion. "What happened?" she asked as she pushed herself up. 

"You fainted," Haru explained. 

"I did?" Her gaze turned inward. She didn't feel sick, just…different. All she knew was, she wasn't about to give up just yet. "I didn't do it," she announced, surprised at how steady her voice was. "I told you the truth, Shigure-san. I didn't use magic; I've never used magic all my life. And all Hatsuharu-san did was help me. Please, believe me." When he remained silent, she moved closer, her face flushed with emotion. "Please, Shigure-san. Tell me what I have to do. I want Hatsuharu-san to be free, and I—I want to live. I'll do anything. _Please_."

His eyes glinted with surprise, but Tohru refused to back down. Whatever it took to save Haru and stay alive, she would do it. "Don't worry about Ha-kun," he told her. "His father will find a way to get the charges dropped from him, but I doubt even Amano-ojisan's influence will be enough to protect you. There's only one thing you can do, Tohru-kun. You'll have to leave."

The response was instantaneous. "No! Shi-chan, don't send her away!" Momiji cried. "I'm not gonna let a buncha old goats run Tohru out of her own home," snapped Arisa at the same time, stepping in front of Tohru as if to shield her from Shigure. Before he could reply, Haru rushed up and grabbed his older cousin by the shirt. "You cold-hearted bastard," he snarled, eyes flashing silver. "You'd bend over backward to protect the family honor and everything else be damned—"

"And how will going black and beating me up help her?" Shigure interrupted evenly. "Think, Ha-kun. We've spent our lives under the shadow of the curse. There are forces in this city that would jump at the chance to destroy us. A wrong move, and not even our own family would lift a finger to help us. You think once they have you in their clutches they'd let you go so easily? And what about Tohru-kun? You think she hasn't been considered suspect the moment she came to live with us? We could very well have been the ones who put her in danger. How can we protect her here, when just protecting _you_ will take everything we've got?"

"I don't give a damn about the curse. You find a way to save her, and—"

"Please stop!" 

They turned to look at Tohru. She lifted her head and gave them a wide, sunny smile, although with a hint of pleading to it. "Please, Hatsuharu-san, all of you, don't fight. Shigure-san's right. I should leave. Until I can prove my innocence, I'd only be a danger to you all. There're some villages far enough away from here where I could find work. You don't have to keep protecting me anymore. I—I'll miss you all, and I'll think of you always, but—but I've also wanted to see what life is like in other places, and now here's my chance. It'll be all right, you'll see. So please, Hatsuharu-san, don't be angry anymore. Please?"

He glowered at her and for a moment she wondered if he was going to turn on her. Haru in his black mode could be rather unpredictable. Instead, he released Shigure with a muttered oath and turned away. She sighed and turned to Shigure. "I'll leave tonight." Ignoring the protests from Momiji and Uo-chan, she continued: "Thank you for everything. You've already done so much for me, but there's still one more thing I ask of you." He nodded. "Promise me, Shigure-san," she said earnestly, "promise me you'll save Hatsuharu-san. He's done nothing wrong. Please don't let them lock him away. That's my only condition."

Brown eyes glittered with relief and savage satisfaction, before Shigure lowered his gaze. Then in an eerily familiar gesture, he lifted her hand and pressed the back of it against his lips. Tohru spluttered, going white then scarlet in a matter of seconds. "A wise man asked me if I believed in destiny," he told her. "After today, I don't think I have much of a choice. I just wish someone had explained all this to me sooner," he added exasperatedly, sounding as if he were talking to someone else.

Tohru was starting to feel lightheaded again. "W-why did you do that?" she croaked.

"I was informed it was the proper thing to do," he said with an odd little grin. "I believe my cousin swore an oath to you, calling on the honor of the Sohma to protect you. Akkan knows how long it's been since those words were last spoken, but the oath now binds us who are of one blood to you for as long as you need us." 

"Eh? How did you—?"

"We felt it the moment Haru said the words," Momiji said. He lifted an eyebrow at Haru as if gently reminding him of something, and the other boy frowned and nodded.

"'Felt…it?'"

Shigure grasped her shoulders, turning her to meet his gaze. "Tohru, you have never been nor will ever be a burden to us. You don't have to convince me; I know you're innocent. Yes, you have to leave until this whole mess can be sorted out, but I am not throwing you out and leaving you to fend for yourself," he said, glancing at Arisa meaningfully. "In fact, I can tell you right now that you're not going to any damn village. You, Tohru-kun, are going to Ryuukama."

"Ryuukama?!" Tohru and Arisa both echoed. "The hell? That's almost thirty miles away!" Arisa added furiously. "It's practically on top of a mountain!" 

"Why Ryuukama?" Haru said suspiciously. "What aren't you telling us, Sensei?"

"_Maa_, sometimes I wish you didn't know me so well," Shigure joked, before turning to Tohru. "I know this all sounds like some story I cooked up, but you're going to have to trust me, ne?"

She nodded, wide-eyed. "Yes, Shigure-san. I trust you."

He smiled. "Then don't be afraid, Tohru-kun. Believe it or not, this was meant to be."


	9. Book 1, Chapter 10

* - * - *

A figure stood on a rooftop, watching a woman jostling her way through the crowded, lamp-lit street. The woman was dressed in a loose gown made of a gray material that reflected the colors around her so that at times she seemed to disappear into her surroundings. Her hat was equally strange, conical and woven of dried reeds but swathed with more gray cloth that covered her face, and for someone who seemed determined to pass through without being noticed, the hat was a decided step in the wrong direction. Fortunately, the street was teeming with people who had long gotten used to seeing costumes of every kind and nationality to bother with a woman who appeared to be wearing a mosquito net over her head.

Her path veered erratically, but the figure knew where she was headed. To the courtyard of central market, where the scaffold had been hastily repaired and cordoned off by guards earlier that day. The courtyard was empty when she came upon it; the nearby taverns were as noisy as ever, but their denizens were keeping themselves indoors with unusual conscientiousness. She circled the place, coming to a stop in front of the platform, and stretched out a hand, palm outward, remaining that way for several moments.

Sensing, the figure realized. Faint traces of magic still lingered in the air, offering clues to anyone sensitive enough to detect them. The woman was not without some skill.

The shadows shifted, but the figure did not turn. "What is it?"

"That woman," the newcomer muttered. "We've been watching her since she came on the caravans. Think she's up to something. She made contact with Sohma a while back and left him a package but damned if we know what it was."

"It was a key."

"A key?"

"A key that opens no door. Leave her be, Megumi. Her mission poses no threat to our objectives. She may even be of help. For now, ensuring the princess' escape is our highest priority. Tell the others to get ready. It is time."

"Yes, Lady." Megumi bowed and left.

The figure continued to watch the enfolding scene in the courtyard below. Several guards staggered out of a tavern, laughing raucously and singing some bawdy song. Startled, woman darted behind a post, and her gray gown immediately melted against the shadows, rendering her practically invisible. The guards stumbled past her and disappeared down the street. When the woman came out from her hiding place, she was dressed as a sailor, complete with smartly pressed pants, striped vest and a jaunty cap on her head. She tossed her thick, chin-length braids back, pushed her glasses up her nose, and strutted away into the crowd.

The figure smiled. The woman was obviously still an apprentice, but what she lacked in magical skills she certainly made up for in, well, fashion savvy. A silhouette of a man appeared and moved down the street after the woman as casually as only a tracker could. Interesting. Sohma-san's agents were remarkably efficient in their own right. Sohma-san's talent for telepathy at a distance, however, was rivaled only by his predilection for pretty, nubile young girls. The figure's smile faded. The handsome, flippant lecher would soon find himself in deeper trouble than even he estimated. He would be besieged on all sides…

But he would not be without allies. The figure shook her head. Things have come to a pretty pass if someone such as she would be thinking about aiding her people's greatest enemies. But it would break the princess' heart if anything happened to the ones she loved, and the princess' welfare took precedence over ancient tribal grudges.

Megumi returned. "The princess and her companions have emerged. They've taken to the back streets but we're pretty sure they're headed toward the caravans at the edge of west market."

"Good. The caravans are still open. If they had fled to the pier they would have been captured."

"There's a troop of guards tailing them. What should we do, Lady?"

Dark eyes regarded him evenly. "Whatever we have to do, Megumi."

He bowed and left. Shouts drifted from somewhere in the distance, and the suddenly the damp, salty air was crackling with magic waiting to be unleashed. The same magic that flowed through the city's veins despite its inhabitants' ruthless determination to stamp it down.

The prophecy _would _be fulfilled, no matter what it took. The figure tilted her face toward the sky, where the sharp sliver of moon stabbed through the clouds. "The Goddess protect us all," she prayed, then turned and vanished into the darkness.


	10. Book 1, Chapter 11 & 12

* - * - *

Confusion, Tohru mused, was not a pleasant state to be in for long periods of time, and at the rate surprises were being flung at her, she was likely going to stay confused forever. "How strange," she muttered. "The girl in black said the same thing, but how can any of this be 'meant to be'?"

Haru, Momiji and Uo-chan drew closer, waiting intently for Shigure's answer. He sighed. "I'm saying you've always been meant to go to Ryuukama, and that everything that's happening now is just a way of—of pointing you in the right direction. Fate, destiny, the manipulations of some other intelligence I have yet to uncover, call it what you want, but the circumstances are too convenient to be mere coincidence. Someone _intended_ for you to go to Ryuukama, Tohru-kun."

"But why?" she asked, bewildered. 

"There's a little girl in Ryuukama who's suffering from a fever no one's found a cure for yet. She needs your help. She's been asking for you, actually."

"What?!" four voices chorused. "You know anyone in Ryuukama, Tohru?" Arisa demanded.

Tohru shook her head, looking dazed. "No, no one. Poor little girl. Is she a villager?"

Instead of replying, Shigure reached into his pocket for Kana's letter and handed it to her. She read it carefully, and her perplexed frown deepened. "Kisa…chan?"

"Hatori-san's daughter?" Haru asked in surprise.

Shigure nodded. "Kisa Sohma, only child and heir of Lord Hatori Sohma, Duke of Ryuukama. The Duchess requests that you come, Tohru-kun, as she believes your presence would help comfort her daughter. She assures you that you'll be treated as a member of the family and an honored guest."

"D-Duke? Duchess?" she sputtered. "Y-You mean—"

"Oh, don't worry," he added, smiling. "Ha-san may be a bit on the serious side but he's a good man, and his wife Kana is one of the nicest people I know. I haven't met Kisa in person yet, but Kana-san tells me she's quiet and shy, which means she takes more after Ha-san, the poor mite."

"But I can't—I mean, I—" Tohru waved her hands frantically in the air. "I wouldn't know what to do! They're nobility, and I'm just a waitress in a café. I don't deserve to be around such important people. I'll do things wrong and offend them and embarrass you—"

Shigure's smile widened. "But Tohru-kun, you're doing just fine around the Duke of Mizaka."

"What? But I've never—" _Kisa Sohma_. Her voice died as the realization left her staggering. "Sohma…" she breathed. 

"You mean, _you_ are the Duke of Mizaka?" Arisa snorted. "Good one, Shigure-san. Everyone knows there aren't any dukes or lords in Mizaka. They all got run out of town or something after the Shattering two hundred years ago."

He tilted his head agreeably. "True, many of the families left after the city was ravaged, but not all. Our family remained, on the condition that we renounce the title and give up rulership of Mizaka. You remember your history lessons, ne? Lord Kunihiro was ruler of Old Mizaka until he died defending the city, but because he was closely related to the king, the people blamed him too for the mess. So his son, Lord Ryujin, voluntarily relinquished the title to keep the peace."

"Our family never forgot, though," Momiji said softly. "We don't call ourselves by the old titles, but we still follow the hierarchy, and Shi-chan _is_ the direct descendant of Lord Kunihiro."

"Who used to be called—" Shigure winked at Tohru "—the Black Wolf of Mizaka."

"Oukami." Whom she used to call 'Pochie' so carelessly. It all became so clear. No wonder the family treated him with so much respect. If things had turned out differently, Shigure would have been ruler of the entire city. All the times she'd treated him casually, even laughed at him, flashed through her mind, and she wilted in utter mortification. And if Shigure was a duke, did that mean Momiji and Haru were nobility as well? _Mother, have I been living with blue bloods all this time?_ "B-but how could Kisa-san have known to ask for me? And what could I possibly do to help her? I don't know the first thing about curing fevers."

"That's what I want to know," Haru cut in. "What good would Tohru be to Kisa? Or is there some other reason Kana-san's asking for her?"

"I don't know," Shigure answered honestly. "Kisa-chan's fever is…unusual. During her delirious spells, she calls out Tohru-kun's name again and again. Kana believes Tohru-kun might somehow give her daughter the strength to fight off the fever."

"And the demon attacks?" Haru continued.

"Demon attacks?" the others cried in unison and in varying degrees of astonishment.

Shigure winced. "_Mou_, Ha-kun, I wish you wouldn't spring those things on people like that. Yes, like our own city, Ryuukama's been, er, experiencing some problems. Magic is strong there, and Ha-san told me the barriers between dimensions sometimes grow thin. I think Kana-san suspects a connection between Kisa-chan's fever and the rise in demon attacks. Ha-san's daughter inherited more than just his gregarious personality; she's highly gifted in magic as well, and her visions could very well contain a clue about the attacks. As for ensuring Tohru-kun's safety, Kana assures me that she has assigned her best agents to see to her protection."

Dukes and sorcerers. Magic and strange fevers, death sentences and demon attacks. A distant city she'd only heard of and a little girl she'd never met who knew her by name. Tohru felt as if she were stuck in a dream that wouldn't end. It occurred to her that if her intention was to clear her name from the charges of magic, then going to Ryuukama, where people lived and breathed magic, was not the smartest way to go about it. On the other hand, there was no other place for her to go, and sorcerer-duke or not, Hatori and Kana were part of Shigure's family just as much as Haru and Momiji were. Shigure trusted them implicitly, and she, Tohru, trusted Shigure. 

Besides, Kisa-san needed her. 

The thought rang strong and clear throughout the whole jumbled mess. Even if nothing else came out of this crazy adventure, even if everything turned out to be a horrible mistake and she would never, ever be able to go back home again, she could at least help save a little girl's life. _Hold on, Kisa-san_, she vowed silently, _I'm coming_.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but how's she going to get there?" Arisa said, interrupting Tohru's thoughts. "All the ships've been docked, and the pier's probably crawling with—"

"Guards," Shigure murmured to Tohru's knees, before turning to Haru. "A search party, going just past the bridge. They'll be here in fifteen minutes." 

Haru frowned. "If not the pier, then where do we go?"

"We'll leave through the back and head toward west market," Shigure answered, after a pause. "Hopefully, they haven't barred the way to the caravans yet. It'll take longer to reach Ryuukama by caravan than by ship, but that's all we've got." 

Tohru and Arisa stared at him. Noticing this, he shook his head as if to say 'I'll explain later'. "There's one more thing before we go," he said instead, drawing an object out from his pocket, sparking collective gasps of astonishment. A pendant swung on its gold chain from his fingers, sending shards of light bouncing off the exquisitely cut gemstone, which was clear at the edges but shaded into a deep blue at the core. The stone hung from a gold disk shaped like the sun, with its rays twined around the stone's upper half. Dazzled, Tohru stared at the gem. "It's beautiful."

He glanced around, but everyone's gazes were all similarly riveted to the stone. Haru's face had gone completely blank but not without effort, if the way he was clenching and unclenching his fists were anything to go by, while Momiji's breathing grew shallower. "You feel it, too, don't you?" he asked his cousins. "It's calling to you, too."

Momiji touched the gem then pulled his hand back. "What the hell is that?" Haru asked hoarsely.

"It's the Sun Stone," Shigure answered. "An artifact that's probably more than a thousand years old. It was once fixed on the King's Staff and believed to have been lost. How it managed to wind up here as a necklace, I have no idea. Probably someone managed to rescue the staff and break the stone off to make it easier to hide, and two hundred years later, someone else packed this thing in a box and sent it to me." 

Haru cupped his hands around the stone, and everyone gasped when his hands glowed white. Startled, Haru jerked away and shoved his hands into his pockets. "That thing feels like I just shoved my body into a waterfall. Momiji, you all right?"

The smaller boy passed a hand over his eyes. "Yes, but my head hurts." 

Tohru was unable to take her eyes off the stone. It looked so beautiful, the way she imagined a star would look if one fell from the sky. She reached out and gingerly touched it. "It's warm," she said wonderingly. "Shigure-san, may I try it on?"

Shigure slipped the necklace over her head, letting the stone rest between her breasts. "This stone belonged to the last king, Senmaru," he told them. "He was a powerful sorcerer, as were most of the kings, and they used this stone to amplify their power, although nobody knows how to use it now. It was believed that the Sun Stone would always find its way to its rightful master." 

Tohru's eyes widened. "Then it belongs to you, Shigure-san. You're the—_ara_?" She'd started to pull the necklace off to give it back, but her fingers only managed to close around thin air. She squinted down and tried to grasp the stone, but the crystal felt as solid as a puff of cloud. It also seemed to be shrinking…she cried out, her hands beating frantically at her breast as the stone continued to sink into her chest. "Shigure-san, help!"

"Tohru-kun!" Shigure tried to pull the stone away, but his hands merely streaked blue lights in the air. Terrified, Tohru clapped both hands over her chest and bent double. Brilliant white rays exploded between her fingers as the stone vanished completely into her body. When the light faded, she straightened slowly while the others crowded around her. She took a shaky breath and patted her chest. "I'm all right. It doesn't hurt. It just feels warm." A thought occurred to her, and she undid the top buttons of her dress and opened it a little. Sure enough, the outline of the Sun Stone was etched in thin blue lines on the skin between her breasts, right above her heart. 

"The Sun Stone's inside her?" Momiji looked up fearfully. "How did that happen? How are we going to get it out?"

"Hmm." Shigure frowned, then reached a finger up to trace the outline on Tohru's chest but got his hand slapped away by a scowling Arisa. "_Ite_! I wasn't going to try anything," he complained. "Miyamoto-ojiichan never mentioned anything about the stone merging with human bodies. If I may, Tohru-kun?" he asked, shooting a wary glance at Arisa. When Tohru nodded, he placed all five fingers over the mark but only succeeded in making the blue lines glow gold, then white, before fading back to blue again. "Well, that didn't work. There's got to be some sort of spell for this. A king would know what to do."

Haru gave him a flat look. "We don't have any kings handy, Sensei. The closest to royalty would be you and Hatori-san."

Shigure shook his head. "The stone isn't meant for me. It belongs to Ha-san, and if anyone knows how to get the stone out from Tohru's body and use it, it'd be him." He watched resignedly as Tohru redid her buttons. "Here's yet another reason why Tohru-kun should go to Ryuukama. At least with the Sun Stone inside her, she'll probably have some sort of protec—" He stopped. "The guards are here. We have to go _now_."

With no time to worry about the stone inside her, Tohru followed the others out through the back and into an alley. Arisa crept toward the street and peered out. "It's clear. No guards in sight."

"Better to keep to the back street," Haru said, and she nodded.

"No." They turned to Momiji, who was standing ramrod straight, his golden eyes blank. "Guards. Too many of them. They'll catch us. They'll hurt Tohru. The shadows are moving, and someone is screaming, screaming—" His voice grew increasingly louder and Tohru hastily covered his mouth. His eyes cleared and he sagged against her. "Not west market," he muttered.

"Momiji-kun." Tohru stared at him, unnerved by his display. He gave her a weak smile.

"A troop's been alerted. Somebody's seen us." Haru swore softly. "What now? Momiji's never been wrong before." 

Shigure raked a hand through his hair. "We don't have a choice. We'll have to run for it, and hope the others can hold the guards off."

__

'The others?' Tohru thought, but there was no more time, because suddenly they were running through the narrow street behind the buildings, past broken crates and garbage heaps and filthy piles of rags that occasionally moved and reached out grubby hands to them. She soon became thoroughly disoriented as alley after alley flew past. Faint, shadowy figures seemed to be running alongside them while more followed from up on the rooftops, and light footsteps seemed to dog them, but when she turned to look over her shoulder, there was no one there. She tripped on a plank of wood and crashed against a garbage can. Shigure grabbed her arm, and they froze when voices drifted toward them over the street noises: "This way! I heard something!" At the other end of the alley, a few guards skidded to a stop, pointed, and sprinted toward them.

Shigure narrowed his eyes. "_Now!_" A split-second later, just as the guards were about to run past, a door flew open and slammed right into their faces. A large man leaned heavily against the doorway, apparently too drunk to notice the groaning guards piled in a heap on the other side of the door. He raised a jug and yelled something incoherent, then kicked the door again just as the guards were picking themselves up, sending them sprawling back down.

Shigure hauled her up and ran. Panting, Tohru fought to keep up, but she couldn't stop seeing that lightning-quick moment when the man at the doorway met Shigure's gaze and gave a nearly imperceptible nod. There was no trace of drunkenness at all in his face. It was as if the two of them had somehow planned the move. _But how?_ she wondered wildly, _how was that possible?_

The street spat them into another marketplace. Stalls covered every inch of the courtyard, while overhead gas lamps were strung up in rows between posts. Although there were noticeably fewer people and more vacant stalls here than in central market, there was still a sizeable crowd despite the hour and the uncomfortable clamminess in the air. 

Shigure smiled in relief. "Looks like Mit-chan's pulled it off. There's the caravan. All we need to do now is hold the guards off long enough for you to make a quick getaway."

Tohru followed his gaze across the forest of stalls to the relatively empty darkness beyond, punctuated by the glow of two or three bigger lamps. They were nearly at the edge of the city. The caravan that would take her to Ryuukama—and to freedom and safety—waited there. _But my home is here_, came a plaintive wail from inside her, and tears filled her eyes, nearly blinding her.

"Do you see any guards?" Momiji asked anxiously.

"Not yet, but they're not too far behind us," Haru replied.

"Let's split up," Shigure said. "It'll be harder to pick us out in the crowd. We'll meet at the other side."

They separated, with Shigure pulling Tohru after him, his hand clamped painfully around her wrist. She glanced over her shoulder, and her stomach dropped at the sight of a veritable army of guards swarming through the marketplace, shouting and shoving people out of the way. "Shigure-san, they're following us!" she hissed.

He looked back. Two soldiers were marching in their direction, scanning the crowd intently. He cursed, glanced around, then pushed her into the shadowy space between two abandoned stalls and squeezed in after her. The guards walked past, giving only a cursory glance at the patch of darkness that hid the two, and Tohru thanked the gods that both she and Shigure were wearing dark-colored clothing. She pressed flat against the wall and held still, and only when the guards had moved away did she allow herself to breathe.

He turned to her and grinned. "Well, that was exciting. The others are almost there. We—"

"You there! What are you about?"

The light was suddenly blotted out. One of the guards loomed over them, blocking the entryway, and he gaped at the sight of her. "Hey, it's her! It's the witch, and—Akkan's blood! _Sohma-san_?" 

Before any of them could react, a shadow dropped down right behind the guard. A blade flashed, and the guard gurgled and slumped down. Tohru felt a shriek race up her throat, and she stuffed both fists against her mouth to hold it in. Shigure thrust her behind him just as the shadow stepped into the light, becoming a young man dressed in a coarse brown cloak, his longish black hair tied back in a small ponytail. His otherwise good-looking face was marred by a scar that ran from his left cheekbone to his chin. His dark eyes glinted as he regarded them. He raised the dagger he'd used slit the guard's throat, then bowed low in a courtly gesture that was jarringly out-of-place in the middle of a marketplace and with a dead guard between them. "Greetings, Princess. The Shukari send their blessings with you on your journey to our long-lost kinsmen."

She opened her mouth, but only a faint whimper emerged. Shigure frowned. "Who are you?"

The young man met his stare. "Name's Megumi, Sohma-san. There's no need to probe me. If I seem familiar it's because you've met the Lady. My sister," he added. Shigure raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. "You need to get away from here," Megumi went on. "The caravan's waiting. We've already cleared the road, so your escape should be easy."

"The place is crawling with guards," Shigure pointed out. "What do you plan to do about that?"

Megumi smiled serenely. "Raise a ruckus." The next moment he was gone. Tohru moved to follow, but Shigure held her back. "Not yet. We have to wait for his signal."

She was about to ask how he knew that, when a loud voice thundered from the middle of the marketplace. "Foul vultures! Cowardly curs! Isn't it enough that your despot of a governor's taken away our jobs, forcing us to scrape a living from underneath your boots? Now you come to finish us off as well?"

Everyone, guard and vendor alike, stopped and stared. Tohru gasped. Megumi was standing on top of a stall, his cloak thrown back dramatically, his dagger and sword raised. The lamplight gave him a saintly glow, and his eyes glittered with fanatical zeal. The people watched him, spellbound. "People of the Outer City, what have you done to deserve this cruelty?" he bellowed. "You've worked your fingers to the bone for the governor, starved your children for the governor, sold your souls for the governor—and this is how he repays you? His guards have come among you now to drive you out of your homes! Where's the righteousness in this? Where's the _justice_?"

People began to mutter and shoot resentful glares at the guards, who were beginning to look ill, especially since more shadowy figures dressed as Megumi was, and just as heavily armed and deadly earnest, were appearing from out of nowhere. _The shadows are moving._ Tohru remembered Momiji's words, and she shivered. But Megumi wasn't finished yet. "We, the Ashari, have suffered with you! Our people have been murdered by the Mizakan tyrant, our chieftain's son taken and tortured. We fight beside you now, people of the Outer City! Take up arms and fight! Fight to be free! _Fight to live_!" 

He raised his sword and a tremendous yell erupted from hundreds of lungs. The next instant people were turning on the guards, punching and kicking and hurling fruits, vegetables, meat bones and empty crates, while the cloaked warriors charged. The marketplace was in complete chaos. "Now!" Shigure hissed, and then they were fighting their way through heaving bodies, ringing blades and flying cabbages. They reached the edge of the market, and Tohru could see Momiji, Haru and Arisa waiting not far from one of the caravans. Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her around the waist and jerked her away from Shigure's hold. "Gotcha!" the guard snarled as he and two others dragged her off. "You're not getting away, you damned witch!"

Screaming, she kicked out, and her foot connected with a jaw. Somebody swore and a fist slammed into her middle, knocking the breath out of her. She fell on her knees, struggling against waves of weakness, and she raised her head to see Shigure, Haru, Arisa and Momiji attacking the guards. Swords flashed, and she could see blood flowing from her wounded companions. "No," she whispered raggedly. "No, no, no, no, NOOOOO!"

Agonizing heat exploded from her chest, flowing like liquid fire through her veins. Blue rays flared outward from the Sun Stone, becoming a rippling ribbon of blindingly white light that wrapped around her, scorching her from the inside out. The grasping hands fell away, and she felt herself rising, her body obeying another will. Her mind was flying in space far, far away, hurtling past a jumble of images and memories, past a whirlwind of stars and shimmering colors, until she came at last to a vast field of white. 

She looked around, and saw that she wasn't alone. A boy was standing with his back to her, his silvery hair gently stirring in an unfelt breeze. She stepped closer to him. He turned—

__

—and violet eyes in a face of exquisite perfection met her own startled gaze. The eyes widened, and a question flickered in their depths. She reached out a hand to him, then suddenly the ground vanished and she plunged downward—

—into an odd sort of darkness. Her body jolted as the floor rocked beneath her. Cool hands clasped her own and brushed against her face. Voices spoke, sounding as if coming from far away. "Tohru, you're all right, oh thank the gods…" "We're on the caravan, Tohru. We've gotten away…" "We're on our way to Ryuukama. Shigure-sensei stayed behind to deal with the guards…you're safe, now…"

Her lips moved, whispering a name borne on a delicate stream of memory from a time beyond time, just before she sank into blessed unconsciousness.

"Yuki."

* - * - *

In a time beyond time, it waited. 

In infinite darkness and absolute silence, it waited. The being circled the walls of its prison, chafing at the chains that bound it to this realm between mortality and immortality, chains that were forged by blood and power and will.

Human blood. Human power. Human will.

It raged continually at the ignominy of it all. It seethed against the presence that bound it to its will and claimed its power as its own. This parasite, this master whose iron-fisted hold upon it would soon be broken. 

Soon, very soon.

And so it waited. It called upon its servants and drew strength from their offerings. Outside was a world waiting to be devoured, and its hunger had grown sharp indeed. When the time came, it would break free of its prison and feed upon that world. 

And infinite torment awaited the one who dared enslave a god.

Soon. Very soon.

* - * - *

Author's Notes:

Book 1, owarimashita! Thank you very, very much, minna-san, for sticking with this fic till now, and for reviewing it, too. Sorry for the inconsistencies and errors and misspellings; please tell me if you see any so I can fix it up. It took me a long, bloody time to write Book 1, but I think I can pull off the next three books in a shorter span of time, as the story's already laid out from end to end in my head. (What can I say? I'm insane.) Most of the characters are stolen from Furuba, but the world is purely my fault. (No research, capheine, I guess I just liked the sound of the names. ^_^;) 

Anyway, coming up…Book 2: Cat and Mouse. (Gomen ne, MoO-mOo, for Yuki's all-too brief cameos in the first book, but his story is going to be told in the second book, I swear.)

A postscript for Cel: This has nothing to do with the fic, but I really like your name. Celarania. It's so pretty. ^_^


	11. Book 2, Chapter 13 & 14

**__**

Book Two: Cat and Mouse

The figure walked through the corridors, slow, unhurried footsteps echoing through the silence. Every now and then the darkness was punctured by the red-tinged glow of the lamps hanging upon the wall, but the figure moved without hesitation, coming at last upon a wide chamber door. A pale hand lifted, and the door opened.

The chamber was lit by the fires burning from hundreds of braziers. A cold mist crept against the walls and twined around the foot of an altar in the middle of the chamber, around which crimson tongues of flame gathered in a worshipful circle. The mist writhed as the figure walked toward the altar and stood gazing silently upon it. 

A body lay there, pallid and thin. Only the shallow rise and fall of its chest indicated that life still burned within the wasted shell. The figure slashed his hand through the air, and the sick green aura surrounding the body became visible. He smiled. The spell of binding still held, and it will still hold when the barriers were released, and the figure finally claimed what was rightfully his. 

It had very nearly slipped from his fingers once, and what should have been his most glorious triumph had nearly turned into a disastrous defeat. A vicious battle had ensued between master and slave, but in the end he had prevailed. Through sheer force of will he drew the rivers of magic running deep under the earth to him, and he cast the creature into a dungeon, and there it waited for his command. No other sorcerer in all the streams of time could ever hope to do what he had done. 

Ah, but he paid dearly for that victory. He did not intend to make the same mistake again.

The time had come. After two hundred years, the Twelve Houses had once again come together underneath one sky, and the magic in the earth churned restlessly, eager to be set loose upon his enemies. The world outside his borders had already begun to feel the sting from his lash. The creature he enslaved continued to fight him, but the Goddess had seen fit to deliver unto his hands a tremendous source of power, a worthy sacrifice whose blood would bind the creature to him for all eternity. That ragged, spitting boy from beyond the sea was destined to become his most formidable weapon.

He turned and swept away. Firelight glinted on silvery hair, and cold gray eyes glittered in anticipation.

__

Soon, he thought. _Very soon_.

* - * - *

The silence was broken by a painful groan, and with an effort Kyo pushed himself upright from his prone position on the floor. He leaned against the wall, swallowing against the nausea that always seemed to accompany his waking moments, and blinked gritty eyes open.

He didn't know why he bothered. The scene never changed. Cold stone walls, a filthy floor with a small heap of rotting straw in one corner, a tiny slit of a window that offered a tantalizing view of the star-strewn sky, the metal door with a rectangular gap where his supper would be pushed through. The battered metal pan on the tray was empty; maybe that gibbering woman who brought him his meals had finally found the courage to drown herself in her tepid gruel, although he doubted it. Then again, he didn't give a damn if she did.

He reached out for the bit of rock jutting out of the wall, feeling for the notches he had scratched there with his nails, and later with the pan, to mark the days since he'd been imprisoned. There were too many notches there, far too many. Ever since his capture, he'd woken up only to night after unending night, and he soon lost track of the time. As he moved, he became conscious of the iron bands encircling his neck and wrists, and rage—sickening, burning, relentless rage—surged from the depths of his soul. He both welcomed the rage and despised it. Rage meant he was still alive and imprisoned in this hellhole, while his companions had already found freedom in death. Still, rage was better than the despair that was slowly eating away at his mind, and he clung to his anger in a desperate attempt to keep from going completely insane.

Sleeping or waking, his entire existence had become a nightmare. In the darkness of his cell, he lived through the horrible events leading to his capture again and again. The journey northward through the murky forest, the horde of hell-spawned demons that poured out of the earth, the dying screams of his companions as they were torn from gut to gullet right before his eyes. He fought back with all his strength, but the demons overpowered him and brought him here to this dungeon…and then the nightmare would begin anew.

__

Child of sorrow, the demons had called him as they surrounded him and slaughtered his companions. Their harsh voices taunted him now, spinning a web of hopelessness around him. _Child of sorrow. Your life is worth nothing. Your death will mean nothing. Give in to the call of our master. No one will look for you. No one will remember you. They will all forget._

The first nights of his imprisonment, he had thrashed and roared and clawed and flung himself against the door of his cell, trying to stamp out the truth in their words. Then one night the demons returned, bound him in chains and dragged him into a great hall. A boy his age stood there, clothed all in white. Silvery hair framed an astonishingly handsome face, and gray eyes glittered like shards of ice. The boy smiled. "Why all this resistance, child of sorrow? You are welcome here in my tower. Your companions, however, were not."

Fury and hatred nearly blinded Kyo, and with a yell he surged forward, only to be yanked back by his chains. The boy sneered. "How weak and pathetic you are. No wonder my servants had such an easy time with you. Your companions put up a far better fight, just before they died like the vermin that they are."

"What do you want from me?" Kyo snarled.

"Want? You have nothing I could possibly want," the boy replied contemptuously as he circled him. "You, however, want something I can give you: your freedom. So just to show you how gracious I am, I will make a deal with you." The boy eyed him measuringly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I have heard about you, Kyo of the Ashari. You are said to be a skilled fighter. Defeat me, and I shall release you. If you do not by the time the Twelfth House of Heaven has fallen into alignment, then your soul shall be mine for all eternity."

The chains fell away. With a roar, Kyo charged, but the boy merely danced around his frenzied attacks, laughing mockingly. The battle raged all over the hall, and Kyo punched and twisted and kicked with all the strength and skill he could muster, but the boy was too fast, gliding through his blows like the wind. Then in the blink of an eye the boy vanished, only to reappear right in front of Kyo. A single powerful kick, and Kyo went flying backward across the hall. With his swiftly darkening vision, he saw the boy bend over him and lay a hand on his forehead. 

"My gift to you," the boy uttered. The world tilted abruptly and pain flooded his entire being, then he knew no more.

When he came to, he was back in his cell. His head pounded mercilessly, and his body felt as if it had been put together all wrong. He attempted to move, and was overcome by a bout of retching. When he finally leaned back, exhausted, he found his mind crammed with a hundred vague memories that weren't there the night before. Memories of running through a forest in a blind panic, of prowling around in the underbrush and stalking some small, furry creature, of clawing his way up a tree and curling up in a sunny spot for a nap and lapping water at the edge of a lake. Memories that could not possibly be his own. Memories that filled him with a cold, numbing terror.

The refuge of insanity grew more and more seductive with each passing night, and Kyo fought against its lure the only way he knew how. With all-consuming rage and a burning hatred for the being who had brought him so low.

A demon-boy with the face of an angel.

__

Yuki.


	12. Book 2, Chapter 15

* - * - *

Dawn stretched thin fingers across the lake, and slowly, the forest awoke. There were no birds to greet the day with bursts of song, and no friendly woodland creature appeared to lend a touch of charm to the scenery. The forest remained dark and chilly, and gray mists retreated from the lake to wrap around the gnarled black tree trunks. Every now and then a branch would crack and a high, ululating cry would cut through the mists, sending a flock of squawking winged beasts into the air, and an occasional hundred-fanged creature would crash through the undergrowth, growling through both of its throats as it bore down on its smaller, equally vile-looking prey. 

A mouse scampered by the shore, showing no sign that he noticed the abominations in the forest at all. He burst through the mist and stopped, standing upright on his hind paws to gaze across the lake, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air speculatively. His pure white fur took on a silvery sheen against his dreary surroundings, and the feeble sunrise was reflected in his eyes. Deep violet eyes that shone with too much intelligence for an ordinary rodent.

"Something's different," the mouse muttered. He padded to the very edge of the lake, letting the water lap up against his legs and tail, and examined the markings he'd made out of twigs and colored stones some days ago. "Five inches, maybe six." 

He gazed up at the sky, his little face looking grave as he observed the coppery tang in the air and the ominous gathering of clouds. Even his fur felt as if it were standing on end. "An electrical storm. The second one this week. Something must be disturbing the barriers again." 

His musings were interrupted by a heavy, rustling noise. A creature vaguely resembling a boar but twice as large and endowed with three lethal pairs of tusks lumbered out of the forest. It stopped at the sight of him, and squealed menacingly. Unafraid, the little mouse stood his ground, his gaze cold and steady as he stared the creature down. _Not this again_, he thought, silvery whiskers flicking in irritation. Time and again, he'd demonstrated his off-limits status to the inhabitants of the forest, and the last time he'd reminded _this_ particular monster that he was the wrong prey to mess with, the monster had ended up with a paralyzed jaw and a gushing eye. In fact, he could still see the ugly scar underneath one yellow slit. It seemed, though, that the monster hadn't learned its lesson yet. His annoyance deepened. How he loathed these dumb, unthinking brutes, but he was well aware that their stupidity was precisely what kept them from turning him into their favorite chew toy. Unlike the monsters in the forest, he was cursed with a body that was small and weak and impossible to conceal in the darkness. His mind, however, was far from weak, and it worked swiftly now to assess the danger he was in. Horned boars sank like rocks in the water, but he probably wouldn't be able to swim far enough before the boar reached him. But there were other ways. Without breaking his stare, he calculated the distance between him and the twigs he'd planted in the ground to serve as a measuring device. A quick swerve to grab a twig between his teeth, a well-timed leap the moment the boar moved to skewer him, and perhaps that lovely, tender spot right below the ear. He wouldn't kill the wretched thing, but the pressure point was guaranteed to make it wish that he had.

If the boar had attempted to surprise him while he was sleeping, though, he'd have killed it in a heartbeat.

The boar snuffled and squealed again, and the mouse tensed, ready to spring. However, the complete lack of fear in its would-be plaything appeared to have unnerved the boar, and a moment later, it turned and shambled back into the forest.

The mouse sighed, glad that the boar had not pressed the issue. While most of the monsters in the forest had learned to give him a wide berth, there were always a few stubborn ones, and the coming storm was bound to stir up a few tempers. But he was simply in no mood to fight. Besides, a voice in his head added mockingly as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water, the monsters should know better than to pick on a small animal with a reputation for being vicious when cornered. 

Especially one who could not be killed.

His eyes hardened as he stared down at his reflection, and with a flick of his tail he turned and scurried toward the forest, but went still again when a nearby bush shuddered. It was ripped apart the next moment, and a rat of immense proportions emerged. The rodent was as big as a small deer, its coarse, black fur poking up in patches on its back between the scales of its armor, and its tail ended in a ball of bony spikes. It chittered and hissed at him, baring teeth as long as his body, all four eyes glowing red, but the little mouse regarded it evenly, unimpressed by its display. "If you're done asserting your superiority over me," he said blandly, "I'd appreciate a ride."

Its ears pricked, and a moment later the giant rat was crouching low, allowing the mouse to jump on its back and settle on top of its head, his little paws gripping the rat's fur. The mouse could feel the weight of the rat's vague, scattered thoughts flowing sluggishly around his mind, as if he was suddenly doing the thinking for both of them. It was another peculiarity of his curse, this ability to communicate with other rodents, no matter what size. Like every other creature in the forest, their thoughts ran mostly toward eating and killing and how not to be killed, but he found the rats to be generally more intelligent than the other monsters, in a sneaky sort of way, and as long as he brought them to places with good eating—easy enough, as they ate practically anything—they obeyed his will quite beautifully.

They darted swiftly through the forest, in and out of burrows and over and under twisted arches of tree roots, scurrying past thick webs of giant spiders where some poor, quivering thing hung wrapped tightly in silk, past acid-clawed tigers lying in wait for breakfast, past a blood owl perched high above, whose eerie green eyes rolled as it followed their progress. The sight of the little silvery ball of fur on top of the giant rat's head was enough to make them think twice about giving chase, and the two made their way through the forest relatively undisturbed. They stopped only once, when an earsplitting yowl made the rat twist around and bare its fangs defensively. A bright orange blur streaked across their path and landed on a nearby root, resolving itself into a fire-colored cat, shining reddish-gold despite the lack of light. A completely ordinary-looking housecat, otherwise. It hissed and spat at them, the fur along its back spiking up and its tail slashing from side to side. The giant rat hissed back. 

"Don't," the mouse warned. "It's useless." 

He gazed down at the ill-tempered feline in disgust. The cat was a newcomer in his forest. It appeared several days ago, yowling furiously and tearing through the woods in the grip of panic until it collapsed at the foot of a tree. Sensing fresh blood, the monsters had surrounded it, and it had taken the mouse the better part of an hour to drive them all away, with the help of the giant rats. He'd approached the cat to ask if it had been hurt—not the smartest thing he'd ever done, he had to admit, and all he got for his trouble was a wound across his back where a claw had swiped at him before he could dive into a crack between two tree roots. He'd searched the face hovering above him for the slightest glimmer of human intelligence, but the slanted eyes were completely feral. The eyes of an animal. The mouse soon gave up on finding any semblance of reason in the beast, and the cat joined the ranks of the forest denizens who kept mistaking him for a helpless little creature. The cat was considerably more persistent, though, attacking him every chance it got. Once, it even chased him up a tree, and the mouse watched in disbelief as it attempted to follow him all the way to the tip of a branch. He was flatly amazed that so much stupidity and single-mindedness could be packed into one orange bundle of fur. Even the monsters would have hesitated to pursue him that far. The branch broke, of course, and the cat plummeted down with a howl of outrage, while the mouse, riding on top of a leaf, glided smoothly toward a neighboring tree. Still, the cat would not give up, and the mouse had to marvel at the well-spring of hatred and bile that could prevail even over a cat's natural preservation instinct. 

Kill or be killed. The cat had obviously taken the law of the forest as its own personal quest, and the mouse would have been only too glad to oblige, either way, if it weren't for the curse binding their souls to their present forms. They could fight for all eternity, the cat and he, but neither would destroy the other. There would be no escape for either of them down that path. 

No escape, not even in death. 

A shadow darkened the mouse's eyes. "Stupid cat," he bit out. 

He urged the rat forward, believing that even a proven idiot like the cat would have to think twice about taking on a rodent that could easily swallow it whole, but once again he underestimated the creature's foolishness. Glancing back, he saw the cat bounding after them, its claws unsheathed as it leaped from root to root in hot pursuit. Silvery whiskers pressed back in exasperation. _Unbelievable..._ He curbed the rat's instinct to turn around and tear the impertinent creature to shreds; there were other ways to get rid of orange-furred nuisances. At his signal, the rat jumped upon a low cluster of branches hanging in their way, forcing it to bend backward nearly to breaking point. When the cat came within pouncing distance, the rat leaped away, sending the branches snapping right back into the cat's face. There was a sharp crack of wood hitting flesh, followed by a pained wail that faded away as the distance lengthened between them. 

The mouse shook his head. "Some never learn."

Their journey proceeded without further interruption, and the gloom grew marginally lighter as they neared the edge of the forest. They came to an odd sort of clearing, more like a hole torn out of the forest's flank, with the faintly stale scent of the lake drifting in the air. The rat chittered and bucked, and it took the mouse all his concentration just to keep it from turning tail and scurrying back into the forest. He couldn't blame it, though. There was something strange about the clearing. The air was sweeter here, the light brighter. Even the vegetation was different. Instead of gnarled trees and black brambles and spiny-leafed crawlers with bitter roots, the ground was covered with tall grasses and low shrubs, and here and there he could see white and yellow dots waving daintily among the grass. "Flowers?" he wondered, half doubting what he was seeing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anything like it. Certainly nothing in the forest or the lake could produce something as innocently lovely as a flower. 

When the rat would go no further, the mouse sighed and jumped down. "Thank you for taking me this far." But the rat was already a vanishing shadow even before he could finish his sentence. 

The mouse shrugged. His courtesies were wasted on the monsters; even Ritsu had said as much. But the courtesies weren't meant for them. Year after year of living in the forest and fighting for his survival had stripped him of everything he knew himself to be. There was no room for honor, respect or civilized behavior in the forest, and countless times the mouse had felt the instincts of the animal he appeared to be threaten to pull him down into the quagmire. But something inside him continued to struggle against the pull, and despite the promise of release in mindless bestiality, his spirit resisted the completion of his transformation into a common animal. So he clung to the old, half-forgotten rituals of courtesy, holding himself to the dimly remembered principle of honor as much as he could. It was the only thing that kept him apart from the monsters in the forest—the tattered remains of his own humanity.

And in the end, Ritsu had understood.

The mouse shook his head, annoyed with himself for indulging in self-pity, and set himself to exploring the clearing. The grasses towered over him, vivid and fragrant. The squat bushes turned out to be _amakaji_—sweetberries—and he even found one or two adorned with clusters of ripe berries. Emotion welled up inside him, and it took him several moments to recognize it for what it was: pure, unadulterated wonder. He plucked one of the shiny purplish-red berries and blinked at the flood of purple juice that poured over him when his paws poked right through the skin. He nibbled at it, and the sweetly tart flavor stirred hazy images from a dusty corner of his mind.

__

…"what's this one?"…

…"amakaji_, your highness. very ornamental and very delicious. would you like to try some?"…_

Realizing that he'd polished off the berry, the mouse stared bemusedly down at the mass of sticky, purple fur on his front. He turned toward the lake to wash the juice off, but was distracted by the sight of a huge reddish rock jutting up from the ground. The rock was strangely smooth and rounded, its peak curving in the air. He circled it curiously, and found that the other side ended not in another slope as he'd expected, but a hollow cavern, with its ceiling growing steadily larger as it curved inward and downward from peak to ground. The mouse frowned in bafflement.

__

… "we're to plant these amakaji_ around your favorite pagoda, your highness, so you'll always have sweetberries to snack on when you're reading."…_

… "thank you. that's very kind of you."…

…"y-your highness! what are you doing?"…

__

… "helping plant the berries, of course." …

He shook his head free of the disturbing images. As he pattered toward the lake, his eyes fell upon one of the white-petaled flowers that had fallen on the ground, and his steps slowed. 

__

…"earth-stars. common weeds but very good for fevers. your highness, please, you don't have to dirty yourself doing this work. you have gardeners to do it for you—"…

… "don't pull them up."…

… "y-your highness?"…

… "earth-stars aren't weeds. being able to cure fevers is better than just being nice to look at, don't you think?"…

Violet eyes narrowed. Why was he thinking these useless things? He really was as big an idiot as the cat. With an angry flick of his tail, he dove into the water and paddled around until all the purple juice had been washed away, then he stood at the shore and shook himself until his fur fluffed out and he resembled a silvery-white puffball. An odd flash in the ground caught his eye, and he crept over for a closer look.

An object was buried in the ground, and all the mouse could see was a bit of polished wood and an inch or two of smooth, yellow surface. It was the weak light glinting against the patch of yellow that caught his attention. After a pause, he began to dig until he had uncovered the object, then he stood back, his heart pounding harder than it did when the boar had confronted him. 

The object was a kendama, a child's toy. Despite the scratches and water stains, the burnished wooden handle with its little spike and cups still gleamed brightly, but not as brightly as the ball that had once been connected to the handle by a piece of string, because unlike the handle, the ball was made of pure gold. With shaking paws, the mouse pushed the kendama's handle upward until it flipped over, and there, painted upon the other side in a childish scrawl, were two words.

__

Yuki Sohma.

The mouse shuddered and looked up at the clearing. But it wasn't a clearing. It was a garden—a lush, green garden with rows and rows of poppies and roses and yellow bells. The forest was not a forest but a grove of fruit trees stretching graceful branches over a pagoda, the smallest in the entire garden, with a friendly red roof and curving benches just the right size for a little boy to curl up in with a favorite book and a favorite toy. Even the lake had disappeared, and in its place was a sprawling palace of white marble pillars and elegant walkways of ornately carved wood where lords and ladies passed by and smiled at him kindly, and beyond the walkways and marble pillars and halls of gold was the tower, where the king stood to survey all he ruled…the king…his father…

And Yuki Sohma curled himself up into a shivering ball of white as the memories surged up from the darkest recesses of his soul and drowned him.

Author's Notes:

Honto ni gomen, minna, for taking so long to update. I had a bit of difficulty writing Yuki's part. Anyway, thanks so much for still reading the fic. Also, to Quantum: thanks for pointing out the inconsistency. I fixed it up a bit; I hope it works better now. And to purrfect, I laughed out loud when you pointed out Tohru's idea for a special lunch for Haru. I honestly, honestly didn't see that. Sorry, Haru!

More to come soon. I'm writing as fast as I can, so please have patience. 


	13. Book 2, Chapter 16

* - * - *

In another world, a caravan made its way through dry, rocky hills, heading west of the port city. It was a small caravan, with only ten travelers, not counting the caravan leader and his guards. Few caravans traveled west nowadays, what with the Ashari bandits running loose in the east and rumors of demon attacks in the west. It also didn't help that the caravans' routes took them across the Deadlands, a broad expanse of gray sand, huge boulders and small streams of reeking, black slime. The villages closest to the Deadlands had named it, somewhat inaccurately though, because there were things living in the Deadlands. Every now and then, hunters would come upon a creature unlike anything they had ever seen, a ghastly travesty of some animal, all horns, teeth, eyes, claws and unpleasant disposition. The caravan leader himself had seen one or two of the beasts, both mercifully dead. Villagers touched with magic claimed that the creatures in the Deadlands come from another time and place altogether, where a great corrupting force reigned, and after what the caravan leader had seen, he was prepared to believe it.

But hundreds of years ago, the caravan leader would recount to his fellow travelers making the arduous journey westward, the Deadlands was once a river that flowed through the heart of a kingdom. But the king violated a sacred oath, and as punishment, the kingdom was broken into pieces in a great tide of destruction. Now the place was what it was, a wasteland and a lesson to all who would dare disobey the commandments of the gods. 

It was a story the caravan leader trotted out during evenings by the fire, and it never failed to entertain travelers. But the first night on this journey when he'd begun to tell the tale, he noticed the expressions on at least two of the travelers' faces. Prudence reigned, and he abandoned the story in favor of a less contentious tale about the moon goddess and her adventures. 

Like everyone else, he'd been watching these travelers closely ever since their dramatic entry into the group. They had all witnessed the incredible events that took place at the edge of a marketplace, and if he'd known he'd be harboring wanted criminals, he'd have thought twice about accepting that woman's gold. And a sizeable amount of gold it was, too. On the other hand, the caravan leader shared none of the Mizakans' abhorrence for magic-users, and after that display at the marketplace, he understood the reason why these four people had to flee the city.

They were the strangest travelers he'd ever met. They were all young, one of them looking as if he still had several years in the schoolroom left, although his companions insisted he was all of fifteen. Despite the mud and grime that covered them, he couldn't help noticing the quality of their clothing, not to mention the chains around their necks. Real silver, not that polished junk they sold in the alleys. Two of them looked like members of some street gang, but their manner of speech as a whole was too refined for common criminals in Mizaka's Outer City. And then there was all that gold the woman paid for their passage westward. These four were from the Inner City, no doubt about that, but how they ended up traveling with a lowly caravan and with only the clothes on their backs, if one discounted the gold…The caravan leader knew a good story when he saw one, and these four travelers were worth at least several nights of good entertainment.

He was especially curious about the dark-haired girl with the sunny smile and the amazing ability to turn even camp food into a hearty feast. Such a sweet girl, the most ordinary-looking of the four. Why, if he hadn't seen her level an entire marketplace all by herself, he wouldn't have thought her capable of harming a fly. 

The girl herself seemed a bit confused about what happened. She remembered nothing after the guards pounced on her and the fireworks began. When her companions told her what happened after she'd finally regained consciousness—how she'd floated up in the air in a dazzling whirlwind of white and blue light, how she'd sent guards, rebels and stalls flying with a flick of her hand—she'd turned worryingly pale and sat with her face in her hands while her friends comforted her. Slowly, over a period of several nights and to the caravan leader's delight, the story of the four companions began to unfold.

Sohma. Now there was a name straight out of the time of kings and legends. The caravan leader had no idea he was traveling with members of the most powerful and aristocratic family in two cities, a fact underscored by an incident in one of the fishing villages the caravan had passed through. They were met by five tall, cloaked men on horseback, who offered their services as escorts for the small caravan. The caravan leader's own guards had bristled at their arrogance and would have started a brawl right then and there, when the men suddenly threw back their cloaks to reveal the insignia of the Duke of Ryuukama emblazoned on their armor. They knelt before the four young travelers and presented their swords as a symbol of their commitment to serve and protect, leaving no doubt as to the identities of the caravan's distinguished guests.

And to the dark-haired girl, the knights presented a small, bejeweled scroll. With trembling hands the girl took the scroll and read it, and the expression on her face was a mixture of trepidation and steely determination. 

The caravan rolled swiftly and steadily westward, and it occurred to the caravan leader that maybe some legends were just about to begin.


	14. Book 2, Chapter 17

* - * - *

Yuki's memories of his childhood had become a collection of hazy, disjointed images, like a pearl necklace come undone, its pearls strewn all across the dusty floor. Poignant images and half-remembered faces of happier times—his parents, his playmates, his teachers, old Commander Tanaka, his father's ministers, his uncles and aunts and cousins numbering by the hundreds, the soldiers, the servants and the gardeners, the people in the city. Each memory brought its own bittersweet beauty, and Yuki once sought to escape by immersing himself in his memories, living entirely in the past as an attempt to deny his present. 

But Akito had found him there, and now all his memories were poisoned by darkness. Every wistful image was tainted by Akito's presence, and every joyful memory led him to the nightmare of the last day, the one memory he longed to forget. Now every time he remembered, he would find himself back in the ruins of his home, hearing the dying screams of his people, crawling out from underneath the limp body of his mother and watching his father's murder at the hands of the one who had enslaved the dark god of silence.

Akito. His brother. 

Yuki had known all along who Akito was. He'd heard the whispers in the palace, and even if he hadn't, he'd have been blind not to notice the eerie resemblance between him and the black-haired youth. He'd also known from the way his mother's lips tightened at the mere mention of Akito and the way his father avoided all talk of him that Yuki would not be hearing the truth from his own parents. 

Then one day, Akito himself told him. Yuki had been exploring the palace when Akito appeared. He walked toward him as silently as a shadow, knelt in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders. Keeping his surprise from showing, Yuki gazed up at the face that looked too much like his own for comfort, and Akito smiled warmly, belying the coldness in his gray eyes. 

"Yuki," Akito murmured, his voice tinged with laughter. "Six years old and already so restrained. How very princely of you."

"Akito," Yuki said, unable to think of a better response. A chill was beginning to envelope him, and the hands on his shoulders felt like cold steel. 

One of the hands lifted, caressing him from brow to throat. "So beautiful," Akito whispered, his eyes roving over him in a way that made Yuki shudder despite his rigid control over his reactions. "So perfect in every way. Do you know who I am, Yuki? Yes, I can see in your eyes that you do." He leaned closer until his lips brushed against his ear. "You are mine, Yuki. The Goddess has given you to me. Your heart will beat for me, your blood will flow for me, and your strength will be my strength. _Never forget_."

Fear and disgust shot through him, and Yuki would have forgotten all about princely restraint in the next instant and pushed Akito away if a servant hadn't come upon them. Akito vanished, and Yuki stood there, trembling, wondering what on earth the black-haired youth meant. 

He found out three years later. He'd opened his eyes, expecting to find himself drifting in the watery depths of the lake, expecting to be dead_,_ but the gods had not granted him that kindness. Instead, he was lying naked on a cold marble slab in a chamber lit by floating tongues of fire. His arms and legs were clamped down by iron bands, and at the corner of his eye he could see writhing shadows with glowing green eyes watching him avidly. The shadows parted, and Akito came to stand over him. The change in the dark-haired youth was startling. Akito's pallor was now tinged with gray, and his face bore lines and hollows that weren't there before. His dark hair lay lank against his head, and his black robe hung loosely on his thin frame. He looked like death itself, and Yuki recoiled from him as far as his restraints allowed him. 

Akito noticed his reaction and smiled. "Yes, that would make you happy, wouldn't it, my beautiful Yuki? Seeing me dead. You'd be pleased to know that I _am_ dying. Creating this little paradise has drained me, and my slave wants nothing more than to feed on my soul. If I stay longer in this body, I will perish, but unfortunately for you both, I have no intention of dying anytime soon. Not until I see your race utterly destroyed and my people's kingdom restored to its former glory, the glory that _your_ people stole from us. Isn't that, after all, what justice is for?"

His bony fingers traced a path along the length of Yuki's body. Terror and revulsion swept over him, but his desperate struggles to free himself only amused Akito more. "So much beauty in one body," he murmured almost absently. "So much strength and grace. Your blood is the purest of the race of the Sun God, did you know that, Yuki? Your body is the most immaculate vessel for the power you yourself lack. And now—" his hand drifted upward and press hard against Yuki's stomach, feeling the frantic pounding of a pulse there "—and now, this body belongs to _me_."

The shadows that had been gathering over them suddenly swept downward in a great gale. Green-tinged lightning exploded from Akito's hand and arced over Yuki. Pain beyond anything he had ever imagined possessed him as his body and soul were ripped apart, and Yuki's screams echoed throughout the tower and pierced the mists over the lake.

When the worst of the pain had receded, Yuki found himself staring in horror at the body lying on the marble slab. Limp, black hair, a wasted frame, a face as pale as death. Akito's body. His own hands lifted up to pat his chest and arms, and his lips parted in a smile of triumph, but it wasn't by Yuki's will. He could only hover helplessly as the hated invader shunted him aside like so much baggage and took over. He was a prisoner in his own body. 

__

Why, yes, you are. Akito's amused voice surrounded Yuki from all sides. _I thank you for the gift of life you have given me, my beloved Yuki. Oh, but I am not completely selfish. I have given you in exchange what everyone in the world longs for. I have given you immortality. _

In the beginning, Yuki fought to regain control of his own body, but Akito's spell was too strong. Anguish and fear were Akito's chosen weapons, and Yuki's defenses crumbled against his onslaught. Time passed, and soon all he sought was to escape from Akito's constant presence. He fled through the misty world of thought and fantasy, seeking to escape in his childhood memories, in empty daydreams, even in recollections of past lessons with his tutors, but always, always Akito found him. All his desires and hopes and dreams withered away; only despair and fear and hatred remained. Finally, in desperation, Yuki created a world of his own where nothing existed. No memory, no thought, no emotion, no hope—nothing at all that Akito could use to torture him with. A world of white as far as the eye could see, where Yuki found refuge during the oppressive nights when Akito reigned over him.

And in the daytime, the moment the sun touched the horizon, Yuki found himself in control once more. He was standing at the edge of the lake, blinking up at the rising sun, breathing in the smell of fresh air. Still, Akito defeated him, for the body he had was not his own, but that of a small, weak animal that was horribly ill equipped to survive against the monsters in the forest. But even that didn't matter. In his mouse form, he could not be killed. He could feel pain when the monsters mauled him, but after the darkness, he would wake up to find himself alive and healthy again—and still a mouse. Akito had made good his promise of immortality; for as long as Yuki's body and soul remained apart, he could not die. Akito would never let him get away so easily.

The days and weeks and months crawled by in much the same way. In the daytime, he became a silvery-white mouse, forced to contend against a forest of monsters with only his wits and his ability to communicate with the giant rats to help him. At night, when the last of the sun had been swallowed up by the earth, Yuki's body returned to its true form, and Yuki retreated to his refuge of nothingness while Akito used his body for whatever purpose he had in mind.

Seven years passed, and Yuki's memories of the child he had been grew dim. His days were spent exploring the forest and learning how to keep the monsters at bay; what his body did at night he had no desire to find out. Sometimes, when the loneliness became too great to bear, he would seek out Ritsu for company; sometimes, it was Ritsu who sought him out. Ritsu was the only other survivor of the destruction, and the only one in Akito's realm who could keep his body and soul together at all times. Then again, there really was no need to put a curse on Ritsu. The boy was as broken as Yuki was. Ritsu was the son of a nobleman and a kitchen maid, and for most of his childhood, Ritsu had had to suffer Akito's fate, to a lesser degree, and it had weakened Ritsu so much so that when Akito found him cowering in the tower, it had been all too easy to break his spirit. Ritsu tended the tower now, dressed in the tattered smock and apron of a kitchen maid, and when pressed to speak, he would dissolve into tears, grovel on his knees and babble apologies. But sometimes Ritsu would talk to Yuki, and sometimes the two of them would sit at the shore in silence, and Yuki wondered at the odd fate that brought two such pathetic creatures together—a girl who should have been a boy, and a mouse who should have been human.

A harsh screech jerked Yuki out of his memory-induced stupor, and he scrambled up frantically and looked around. He was still in the clearing, with the kendama lying beside him, the painted words screaming accusingly at him. He searched the sky, but there was nothing there, save for the black, roiling clouds that had completely blotted out the sun, and as if on cue, thunder rumbled ominously. The thunder must have woken him up. Yuki breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly turned to puzzlement when he realized that he must have been lying on the ground in a semi-conscious state for nearly an hour. Now that was strange. Had he been in the forest, he'd have woken up in some blood-owl's nest by now or worse, but here he was, still whole and relatively undisturbed. There was some force at work in this clearing, some lingering traces of magic unlike that of the rest of Akito's realm, and whatever it was, it was something the monsters found repellent. Yuki wished he knew more, but magic was a gray area to him, and the memory of those farcical magic lessons with that treacherous mage was another he was only too willing to forget. 

He sighed and shook himself to get rid of the cobwebs in his head. When he looked up, his gaze fell upon a rock half-buried in the ground near the kendama. He pattered up to it, ran his paw over the odd green stains upon the surface, then sniffed curiously. The stains turned out to be algae. Traces of algae on a rock that was a good two feet away from the water's edge. "Just as I thought. This clearing used to be under the lake."

Which meant the lake had shrunk enough to uncover at least some of the outer edges of the palace. The waters of the lake had been slowly receding for months now, but the rate had speeded up in the past several days. Ever since that idiot cat arrived, Yuki realized with a jolt. Somehow, the cat's arrival had subtly altered the power holding Akito's realm together. Akito created this realm, and nothing left or entered it unless Akito willed it. Whoever the cat was, he was somebody Akito had great interest in keeping alive—at least for now.

There was a slight rustling, and as if his thoughts had summoned it, the cat appeared, crouching down at the water's edge for a drink. Standing downwind and with the rock to conceal him, Yuki was able to observe his fellow prisoner quite freely. Even the cat seemed to be feeling the peculiar magic of the clearing; it was the first time Yuki had ever seen it so unguarded. The cat stepped away almost daintily, sniffed at the reeds, then sat down and began to wash itself. Yuki watched in amusement. Here was the great hunter of the forest, the ferocious predator who thirsted for his blood. His gaze turned scornful. "Idiot," he muttered underneath his breath. 

"His name is Kyo," Ritsu had told him some days ago. "He came from across the sea. _He_'s been keeping him locked in the dungeon most nights, but sometimes _he_ would have him brought to the great hall and made to fight you, Your Highness. _Him_ l-looking like you, I mean."

Yuki, who'd been absently nibbling on a lump of stale bread, looked up sharply. He knew who "_he_" was; Ritsu never called Akito by name. But this was the first time he'd heard anything about the newcomer. "Why would Akito do that?"

Ritsu winced reflexively at the hated name. "I-it's the condition for his release. _He_ told him that if he d-defeated you, _he_ would set him free. But you've always been an amazing fighter and _he_ knows that, and that's why—that's why—" Ritsu's eyes filled with tears, and he shrank into himself, letting his long, light brown hair cover his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. It's all my fault. I'm sorry for being so worthless."

Yuki let his thoughts wander while he waited for Ritsu's spasm of remorse to pass. A vague compassion was stirring inside him at the thought of the torment Akito had chosen to visit upon this Kyo. An illusion of hope when there was none—that seemed a particularly painful cruelty. That ridiculous condition about defeating Akito in Yuki's body was a double-edged sword, as much as Akito's "gift" of immortality was to Yuki. Akito obviously intended to break this boy as thoroughly as Ritsu had been broken. As Yuki had been broken, for that matter.

"The demons call him the child of sorrow," Ritsu mumbled. "Even _he_ calls him the child of sorrow. I-it makes him so angry to be called that."

"Child of sorrow?" Yuki frowned. For some reason, the words touched a chord somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind. "Is that supposed to mean anything?"

"I-I don't know. I'm sorry I don't know. I'm sorry I'm so useless." Ritsu's voice dwindled to a despondent muttering, and long practice was all that kept Yuki from glowering impatiently at the other boy. "He hates you, Your Highness," Ritsu went on in a low, fearful voice. "He's sworn to k-kill you. He doesn't know about _him_ or the curse. All he sees is _you_."

Silvery whiskers twitched. "That sounds like the idiot cat," Yuki said sardonically as he turned and padded away, the brief flare of sympathy fizzling out in its own ashes. Still, he couldn't help feeling a stab of envy as he stood now beside the rock watching the cat settle down for a nap, looking absurdly at peace with itself. The cat was cursed just as he was, only in reverse—an animal in body and spirit in the daytime, and a complete human being at night. This Kyo didn't know how good he had it. He didn't have to live with the threat of losing himself to the beasts around and within him in full consciousness. With each passing year, Yuki forgot little bits and pieces of his humanity, and the prospect of spending the rest of his life as an animal who remembered what it was like to be human terrified him. The cat was protected by its own ignorance and stupidity. Yuki's awareness tormented him.

But then, Yuki didn't have to spend what few hours of sentience he had locked in a dungeon, only to be dragged out, forced to fight a monster in human form and suffer defeat again and again. Yuki was allowed the illusion of freedom; the cat had the illusion of hope. They stood on opposite sides of hell but it was the same hell, and the same devil ruled over them both. 

Yuki sighed and raised his eyes to the sky, and only then noticed the black shape spiraling high above them. His breath died in his throat and terror seized him even before the harsh, high screech that had woken him up split the air like a blade through old cloth. He crumpled up into a shivering ball, and from the corner of his eye he saw the cat leap up with a maddened yowl, every hair on its body standing on end, slanted eyes rolling wildly. In the next instant the cat had fled into the forest in a blind panic, and Yuki was left alone in the clearing.

He whimpered as the black, winged shape swept over him again. Akito. The lord of his realm, surveying all that he ruled. He needed no tower, not when he was in this form—an immense black hawk with pale, glittering eyes and claws like poison-tipped daggers, whose very shadow struck fear in the hearts of human and beast alike. Akito often took this form in the daytime when he recuperated from the strain of occupying a body that wasn't his own, and its significance did not escape Yuki. A hawk—a bird who preyed on mice. The hawk shrieked again, and the sound lashed at the small white form on the ground. "Go away," Yuki moaned. "Leave me alone."

Lightning tore through the sky, the thunder chasing at its heels. The storm was upon them. Yuki struggled against the choking cloud of fear and hatred and forced himself to look up. The hawk circling through the storm clouds was not focused on him, but on a part of the forest some distance away from the clearing, almost at the very edge of the borders. The tops of the trees glowed with a greenish aura punctuated by jagged arcs of electricity. Something was coming through the borders, something that interested Akito greatly. Lightning cracked again, and the hawk screeched in annoyance; for all his power, even Akito disliked flying through storms. With one last swoop over the forest, the hawk wheeled around and soared back toward his tower. Yuki could almost feel his satisfaction. The forest would deal with this intruder soon enough.

Fury rose within him, dispelling the last traces of paralyzing terror. The intruder was likely a poor hunter who had blundered into the forest and accidentally crossed the borders. If the magical fields protecting the realm had not fried his brains yet, then the monsters would finish the job. There was no chance for an ordinary human to survive the forest, and this Yuki knew only too well. Too often in the past he'd come upon the scene too late to do anything but stay out of the vicious scrabble for the bloodied remains. Another life sacrificed needlessly to Akito's greater glory. Another life destroyed.

Violet eyes narrowed into slits just before Yuki pushed himself up and scampered into the forest, stopping only once to grab a twig lying on the ground between his teeth. A giant rat appeared at his side a minute later, answering his mental summons, and he leaped upon its shoulder and swung himself up to the top of its head. He didn't know what he could do—not even he could control the giant rats in a feeding frenzy—but perhaps he could help give the poor man some dignity in death. Take away the pain and set him free before the monsters tore him apart. It was the only kindness Yuki could offer, and it would never be enough.

And just as it happened too many times before, the last thing this man would see before his life was snuffed out was a small white mouse glowing silver against the darkness, his violet eyes watching with gentle compassion. 

Author's Notes:

I'm really sorry for the confusion the last few chapters caused. I hope this one makes things a bit clearer. And thank you, Maeko, for pointing out the errors and stuff. I'll clean it up soon, only I don't have too much time yet at the moment. I apologize if Yuki's a bit OOC at some points. I can't believe how hard it is to write his part—and to think he's my fave character. The Yukiru part's coming in the next installment. Once again, thank you very much, minna, for reading this monstrosity of a fic.


	15. Book 2, Chapter 18

* - * - *

Everyone in Mizaka had heard the stories of the bandit attacks on the villages beyond the port city. Bloodthirsty tales of midnight raids and beheadings and general pillaging had animated conversations in tavern and drawing room alike. And having just fled from an out-and-out battle between self-proclaimed Ashari warriors and city guards themselves, the four travelers were understandably surprised when the small caravan rolled into yet another village and found it intact, with neither hide nor hair of the foreign devils in sight. Finally, the caravan leader took pity on them and explained that while it was true that the Ashari refugees had turned to banditry in order to survive, they only attacked the handful of villages that had openly declared their loyalty to the port city. There was no love lost between the Ashari and Mizaka. 

It was also true that the Ashari had lost men to Mizakan treachery, including the chieftain's adopted son. However, most believed that the boy had been killed outright, not just kidnapped as the stories in the city went, and the tribe had sworn to avenge the murders. Bitter though they might be, the Ashari were not fools, and would stay clear of port city itself until they had gained the numbers and strength needed to take a sizeable chunk out of Mizaka. Judging from the trouble that had just boiled over in the Outer City, that time was not too long in coming. 

Still, there was an unmistakable sense of wrongness in the villages. Things were quiet, yes, but the mood was distinctly unfriendly, even tense. People watched them warily from windows and doorways, and even the inns where they occasionally stayed for the night were given to bouts of morose, guarded silence. The farther west the caravan traveled, the more hostile the atmosphere grew, and even the caravan leader admitted to being baffled. An explanation came when the caravan met up with the Ryuukaman knights. It was the demon attacks, the knights reported. The villages and towns in the west were practically under siege from mysterious armies of demons, and the attacks were slowly spreading eastward. When the Duchess had sent them to find the four travelers and guide them safely to Ryuukama, they had fully expected them to travel by ship as the roads had become too dangerous, and they were quite disturbed when they learned that the youngsters had chosen to go by caravan instead. 

The caravan leader had roundly and vociferously defended his job's reputation. Why, of course the roads were safe. Perhaps all that dabbling in sorcery they did in the west attracted the demons, but the eastern lands were still free from attacks of the supernatural kind, and besides, there was no danger his guards couldn't handle. But as they drew steadily closer to the Deadlands, his assurances began to lose conviction as they came upon more and more scorched fields and abandoned houses, one of them with a moldy pot of stew still sitting in the cold hearth. Fear began to infect the caravan like a fever, and even the Ryuukaman knights rode with their hands gripping the hilts of their swords, their bodies tense and alert.

Finally, the caravan arrived at the last settlement at the border of the eastern lands, where they had intended to rest and ready themselves for the journey across the Deadlands. But the sight that greeted them filled them with horrified dismay. What had once been a large, bustling village was now a ghost town. Houses and inns stood empty, doors hung drunkenly on their hinges and window shutters creaked in the wind. Broken pieces of furniture littered the front yards, shattered pottery littered the alleys, and once or twice they came upon an arrow buried in a wooden post, rendered forever harmless. The wind stirred up gray swirls of dust in the streets, and that was all. The village was as silent as a graveyard. 

The caravan leader gave a cry and jumped off. He had friends in this village, good friends, and they had all been excellent hunters, so it couldn't be, it couldn't be… Grief overtook all caution, and he ran pell-mell from house to house, calling out names, while his guards chased after him. The others began to wander off to search for signs of life, while a few more opportunistic ones trotted toward the inns to see if there weren't a few stray bits of ham and jugs of ale and with some luck maybe even a treasure or two. Despite the knights' stern warnings to stay together, two of the four young travelers eventually decided to do some investigating of their own and find out what could have happened to the villagers. It wasn't the utter stillness that spooked them the most, they announced; it was the lack of bodies. The knights had their suspicions, but even they couldn't explain how a demon raid could have left no corpses at all, not even a single dog or chicken to indicate that there had once been life in this village. After a brief shouting match between the knights and the tall, blond girl, it was decided that she and the white-haired boy, together with two of the knights, would go after the leader and his guards and herd them back to the caravan so that they could all put this unsettling place behind them as quickly as possible. With swords and lead pipe drawn, the four went off in the direction of the caravan leader's stricken cries, leaving three knights and their two companions behind.

One of the knights glanced at the golden-haired boy, who was sitting on a crate and staring at the street with vacant eyes. "You can See, can't you, Momiji-sama?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," was the equally soft reply.

"What do you See?"

"Many roads." The boy's voice sounded as if he were speaking from a great distance. "Many roads, but they all lead to one place. The enemy is watching us. His wings rain death upon the world. The blood of both will be the destroyer. The blood of both will be the savior." The last words were uttered with an odd, singsong quality, as if he were reciting some half-remembered nursery rhyme, and the knight reached out and caught the boy before he toppled off the crate.

"Momiji-sama, are you all right?"

The boy looked up into the worried faces of all three knights and laughed. "Sorry about that. I must be hungrier than I thought. Ah, I wish they hadn't let Haru lead the way. This place gives me the creeps."

"Kensuke's with them. He has an excellent sense of direction." The knight smiled, partly in relief and partly in reaction to the boy's bubbly energy. "For a moment, Momiji-sama, you reminded me of His Grace's daughter, Lady Kisa. She too has the Sight, and her visions have provided judicious guidance in times of need. You truly are of one blood," he added admiringly.

"But now Lady Kisa lies ill, and we are left to flounder without her visions," another knight said glumly. "What blasted timing too, what with His Grace fighting a war with those vile creatures."

The boy grinned. "Heeh? You three look gloomier than this place. Don't you worry, Knights-san. With Tohru beside her, Kisa-chan will be in good hands, ne, Tohru?"

He turned toward his companion, but the dark-haired girl had disappeared.


	16. Book 2, Chapter 19

* - * - *

The little girl must have come this way. She could have sworn she'd seen her turn at this corner, but all she was looking at now was an alley leading to a dead-end. Tohru frowned, perplexed. Unless the little girl had the power to pass through walls, she should have found her by now, or at least caught a glimpse of her.

Tohru noticed the little girl shortly after Haru and Uo-chan left with the others. The small, pigtailed form was running down a street, the skirt of her dress flapping against her little legs. She turned a corner and vanished, and in her excitement at finding someone alive in this ghost town, Tohru had taken off after her, intending to bring her back to the caravan. The little girl led her on a merry chase, turning at this corner and into that alley, always keeping several paces ahead of her. She didn't seem to hear Tohru calling her; either that or she was deliberately ignoring her. The chase ended with Tohru leaning against a wall and panting from exertion, eyeing a dead-end street as empty as the rest of the village. There was no little girl in sight.

Tohru shoved damp strands of hair off her face and sighed. Well, this had been a useless exercise. Maybe it was just hunger getting the best of her; it was already long past the lunch hour, after all. Suddenly she stood still as the tiny, niggling thought that had been scratching at the edge of her mind let loose a deafening roar. Silence. It was absolutely silent. She could still hear the voices of her fellow travelers when she was chasing after the little girl. Even the distant cries of the poor caravan leader who was searching for his friends had reassured her, but now, she could hear nothing at all. It was as if everyone had just dropped off the face of the earth. 

Fear beat its insistent tempo in her chest. She remembered the path she'd taken, though—it was a bit confusing, but she could still recall landmarks and things like that. She chose a direction that would lead her back to the caravan and had taken one step when she heard someone giggling.

She froze, every hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The high, childish laughter came from somewhere behind her. In what had to be the most difficult thing she'd ever done yet, Tohru took a single, shaky breath and turned around.

The little girl she'd been following was crouching on the ground a few feet away with her back to her. She giggled again, and Tohru's stomach contracted at the sound. Every instinct was screaming at her to run, and for once Tohru was going to obey. She took a step back, and another.

The little girl stood up and turned around. Her head was bent low, concealing her face. She began to move slowly, deliberately toward Tohru, who choked on her own fear when she realized that the little girl wasn't walking, but floating two feet off the ground. The little girl lifted her face—

But there was no face. Only a blackened, decaying mass of flesh where a face should have been. The rotting flesh continued down into the little girl's dress, and a foul-smelling liquid was already seeping into the cloth. The little girl opened what had once been her mouth to giggle again, and two yellow circles peered out from the gap.

Tohru's scream shattered the silence. She turned and ran, the dead girl's laughter keeping steadily after her. From the edges of her vision she could see the village come alive as the missing villagers poured out of the alleys and houses and into the streets. People with heads nearly torn off and limbs hanging at impossible angles, people with the same rotting faces as the dead girl, people who were all grinning in a gruesome parody of joyous welcome while yellow eyes stared out from their mouths. The air grew thick with the stench of death. 

Tohru's breaths made thin little squeaks as she fled through the streets, all thought of remembering landmarks drowned out by panic. She glanced around wildly, searching for her companions, and screamed again when a pair of arms caught her around the shoulders.

"Tohru-sama, it's me."

It was one of the Ryuukaman knights. "Touma-san!" she gasped. "The people—they're coming—_they're dead_, _aren't they_?!"

The knight grimly scanned the crowd of undead villagers and drew his sword. "Corpse wraiths. They enter a body at the time of death and swallow the soul before it can escape. We've strayed too far from the caravan. Stay close, Tohru-sama."

They dove into an alley and out into another street. When a few dead villagers attempted to block their way, the knight cut them down, and the corpse wraiths—black mists with gaping mouths and glowing yellow eyes—shrieked their indignation at being deprived of their hosts as they dissolved in the air. Tohru and the knight came upon two of the caravan leader's guards, both of them sobbing with fear and one still clutching an ivory statue he'd pinched from one of the houses. "Mama said this would happen," the treasure-hunter blubbered. "Mama said so, and I didn't believe her. The dead walking among the living. I didn't believe her!"

"It's not the corpse wraiths that worry me." The knight hacked at another zombie. "Corpse wraiths are scavengers, not killers. Pray we don't run into the ones that _did_ kill these people."

"What about the others?" Tohru cried as she dogged the knight's heels. "Hatsuharu-san, Uo-chan, are they all right?"

The knight gave her a brief reassuring look. "I'm sure they are, Tohru-sama, they're—_what in Akkan's name_—?"

The crowd of undead villagers fell back to make way for the new creatures advancing toward them. With the wide, hooded heads and tails of gigantic cobras and scaly, albeit vaguely human-like bodies with thick steel armor, the monsters towered over the humans. Giant fangs dripped with greenish venom, and meaty fists wielded swords as long as Tohru was tall. The humans looked into slitted eyes and saw death.

"There're so many of them!" one of the guards wailed. "Hundreds, no, thousands of them!"

"Now here's a familiar face," the knight said in a deadly voice. He uttered a word, and clear, golden light flashed over his left arm, solidifying into a large shield of black steel, with the dragon of Ryuukama emblazoned in gold. Another word, and his sword blazed with golden fire. "These viper warriors have already destroyed several villages in the west. Including mine."

The guards whimpered. The viper warriors continued to stalk them, hissing ominously, forcing the humans to retreat further down the street. More were coming in from the side streets. They were almost completely surrounded. In a convulsion of terror, one of the guards grabbed Tohru and shook her hard. "Do something!" he shouted. "You're the witch, aren't you? Do something!"

Tohru gulped and closed her eyes, pressed her hands over the Sun Stone in her chest. _Please!_ she begged. _Please work! Please help us!_ Nothing happened, not even a flicker of warmth. "I can't do it!" she sobbed. "It's not working!"

"Leave her alone," the knight snapped. "Draw your swords. Prepare to fight."

The trembling guards drew their swords, which rattled in their hands. Tohru moved to give them room, but shrieked and pressed back against the knight when a dead villager swiped at her. The knight of Ryuukama glanced down at her ashen face, then at the army of viper warriors and their undead minions, and calm resolve settled over him. "Tohru-sama." 

She looked up. 

The knight's face above her own was peaceful. "Don't be afraid. You can still get away. Take these two dolts with you. Follow this street. It will lead you out of the village."

"What are you, crazy?" one of the guards shrilled, overhearing the knight's words. "This road leads straight into the Deadlands! We'll get eaten by monsters!"

"Go," the knight went on, ignoring the guard. "Go to Ryuukama. Save my city." 

Tears streamed down Tohru's face when she realized what the knight intended to do. "No! No, Touma-san! We'll all go together! You and me and the others together. It can't end like this!"

"Tohru." His voice cut through her rising hysteria, and the smile he gave her tore through her heart. "Don't be afraid, Tohru-sama. This was meant to be."

She sobbed once, then turned, pulled at the two guards to get them moving, and ran faster than she had ever run before. The knight of Ryuukama gave a tremendous shout, and brilliant golden light exploded behind them, flaring brighter than the high-noon sun. Viper warriors screeched in pain and corpse wraiths howled their fury, and still Tohru ran, not daring to look back. 

__

Touma-san.

Undead villagers staggered before them, attempting to block their way. The two guards swung their swords, yelling for all they were worth, and the corpse wraiths flew harmlessly by. And still Tohru ran, faster and faster.

__

Hatsuharu-san. Uo-chan. Momiji-kun.

A viper warrior leaped in front of them and swung its sword, but Tohru and the guards simply swerved aside. The viper warrior moved to pursue them, and was instantly vaporized by the wave of cleansing golden light. And still they ran, faster and faster.

__

Shigure-san.

After what seemed like an eternity of running, the end of the street finally came into view, and the bleak expanse of the Deadlands yawned before them. They flew down the street and out onto rocky ground and open sky. The sun beat down upon them, draining them of what little strength they had left, and still they ran, past gray boulders and black bushes, leaving the ill-fated village and their companions far behind, until the only sounds left were their heavy gasps for breath and the lonely cry of a raven in the distance. They ran until they could run no more, then they fell to the ground and lay as if dead. 

It was already dark when Tohru woke up. Every part of her body screamed with pain, even parts she hadn't known _could_ hurt, and it took her several minutes and much groaning to push herself upright to a sitting position. The two guards were already awake, one of them standing with his face turned up to the sky, the other huddled on the ground, his shoulders hitching every now and then. The one standing glanced at her. "What now?"

__

What now indeed? Laughter threatened to spill out, and she clamped her lips together to keep it in. She was teetering on the edge of insanity; she didn't know what was still holding her together, but whatever it was, the past events had frayed it almost to breaking point. _What now, what now?_ The question tinkled in her mind like a broken musical box. She had just lost everything and everyone she cared for. Haru, Uo-chan, Momiji. Those brave Ryuukaman knights. The caravan leader. And Shigure, back in Mizaka. She couldn't go home, she couldn't turn back, but she didn't have a hope of surviving the journey to Ryuukama alone either. She had nothing—no money, no clothes, no food. And now this man was looking at her and asking her 'what now?'

The answer was simple: She didn't know.

She stared up at the sky with dull eyes. _Mother, what do I do now?_ Her hand drifted up to her throat where her charm necklace lay, needing its comforting touch, but the necklace was gone. Probably torn off her neck during their escape. Her hand dropped, but the weight in her heart was already too great for her to mourn the loss of her beloved necklace. She would have given her necklace a hundred times over for the chance to see Haru, Momiji, Uo-chan and Shigure again.

She had never felt so lost.

"Why didn't you do anything?" It was the second man, the one on the ground. He raised his head, and his eyes burned the accusation into her soul. "Why couldn't you have done something?"

She closed her eyes as the tears began to fall, slowly at first, then faster and faster. "I don't know," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"_Sorry?!_" The man leaped to his feet. "What's the use of all your magic if you couldn't even save a single fucking life, huh? Useless bitch like you, they should've just killed you in Mizaka."

"Leave her alone," the first man admonished, standing between her and the other. "We're all in the same pile of shit right now, so quit pickin' on her, all right?"

"I'm sorry." The words were her litany, a mantra to keep her mind from flying apart. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Questions pounded at her consciousness. Why didn't the Sun Stone work? Why couldn't she have done anything to save her companions? What were they going to do now? Where would they go? How would they survive?

__

I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Then, strangely enough, a memory flickered to life.

__

"Mother, do you think the prince is still alive?"

"Perhaps. The place beyond the forest is steeped in magic. Anything can happen."

The two men were arguing, nearly coming to blows, in fact. A sense of déjà vu washed over her. Didn't this happen before? Oh yes, Haru and Shigure had been arguing over her, too. They had both been trying to protect her, in their own way. Her tears continued to flow, hot as acid. Haru and Shigure weren't around to protect her anymore, and it was all her fault.

__

"I want to help him. Won't somebody help him, Mother?"

"Somebody will."

They were stranded in the Deadlands, with no food or water or a decent human settlement within miles to beg shelter from. Everybody knew there were monsters in the Deadlands. It bordered the cursed forest, after all. And all they had were two swords, an ivory statue, the clothes on their backs and a magical stone that refused to work. If they survived for more than a couple of days, it would be a miracle.

__

The important thing is to choose to live.

She opened her eyes. The wind had picked up, and dust swirled around her and the oblivious men. She turned to look over her shoulder. Perhaps it was the starlight playing tricks on her, but it almost seemed as if a woman was standing there, her red-gold hair bright against her white cloak, her sea-blue eyes filled with love. 

__

Your Prince of Snows is waiting for you.

Her mother was gone. Maybe it _had_ been the starlight or whatever it was, but Tohru was beyond caring. All that mattered now was finding the strength to go on. She got to her feet, wincing as abused muscles protested. The two men stopped quarreling and looked at her warily. She wiped her tears away and glanced up at the sky. _Mother, please help us now. _

It wasn't true she had nothing. She had somewhere to go. She had a reason to live. And whether she liked it or not, these two men, one of whom hated her, depended on her now. She looked at them, and smiled as cheerfully as she could manage. Taken aback, they could only stare at her. "Shall we go then?" she said.

"Go where?" one of them asked suspiciously.

"I thought Ryuukama would be a good place to start." They goggled at her, but Tohru didn't care. Her smile turned rueful when her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding them that they hadn't eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. She looked around and spotted a lizard-like creature crawling on the ground. 

"_Anoo_," she began. "I'm sorry dinner is a little late, but how does roasted lizard sound to you?"


	17. Book 2, Chapter 20

* - * - *

They dined on lizard that night—gamey and foul-tasting and wretchedly insufficient, but at least they had something in their guts other than churning acid—and fell asleep right there, huddled together for warmth. They walked all day the next day, careful to keep a westward course. One of the guards—Tsuyoshi, the one who had defended her—caught no more than three lizards for them to gnaw on, and they spent the night curled around their empty stomachs. The next morning, the other guard, Banto, woke to find himself face to face with a two-headed cobra. He jerked back and the cobra struck, sinking all four fangs into a lump at his chest. Banto's luck held, as the lump turned out to be the ivory statue he'd stolen from the village, and Tsuyoshi quickly dealt with the snake before it rectified its error. The ivory melted from the venom and Banto threw the statue away, but Tohru managed to slice the snake's meat into strips and kept them in a pouch she'd made out of its skin. The snake became their sustenance for the second day of their journey. 

By the third day, Tohru was seriously worried. The sun lashed at them constantly, and they had not had a drink of water in over three days. They couldn't last much longer on snake meat and lizard blood. They needed fluids more than anything else. She glanced back at her companions. Tsuyoshi was using his sword as a walking stick, almost too weak to catch the lizards their lives depended on, while Banto's semi-deranged muttering had lapsed into exhausted silence. Tohru herself was barely able to keep upright. Their steps slowed considerably, but she knew they had to keep moving. The longer they stayed in the Deadlands, the slimmer their chances were of surviving, and right now dehydration and weakness were far deadlier enemies than the viper warriors could ever be.

Their luck turned on the fourth day, although one wouldn't have thought it at first. The three had woken up to a horrible sight: carrion birds, with bald heads and black plumes and an altogether too acquisitive look in their beady eyes. Tohru had yet to see uglier harbingers of death.

"They're gonna eat us," Banto moaned, cowering against her side. "We're gonna die."

Perhaps hunger had dulled her civilized sensibilities and sharpened other instincts, but Tohru found herself staring speculatively at the birds, particularly the largest and boldest one that was casually preening its feathers as it waited for them to expire. Carrion birds were related to chickens, weren't they? She'd cooked chicken before, and she had to struggle to keep her mind off the tantalizing memory of roast chicken stuffed with herbs. She pulled out the empty snakeskin pouch and felt around for a good-sized stone. "Tsuyoshi-san."

Tsuyoshi tore his eyes from the birds and turned to her.

She offered the strip of snakeskin and the stone. "Would you, please? I think your aim is better than mine."

Tsuyoshi's aim turned out to be excellent. The stone hit the bird dead in the eye, and before it could flap away, screeching with pain, Tsuyoshi was already swinging his sword at its neck while its companions flew away in bewilderment at having the tables turned on them. As Tohru set to work cutting the meat into strips, Banto curled his lip in disgust. "You're gonna make us eat that? That thing eats corpses. It was waiting for the chance to eat _us_!"

"So we beat it at its own game, that's all," Tsuyoshi retorted. "Don't eat it if you hate it so much." Banto eventually gave in.

As horrid as it was, the carrion bird's flesh gave them renewed strength to continue on their journey. Later, they came upon a stream hidden behind some brambles. They had encountered other streams before, but they were no better than reeking black mud-holes. This stream looked slightly clearer, and the water flowed sluggishly past to vanish around a few boulders. After a brief debate and much complaining from Banto, the three gave in to need and drank handfuls of the thick, bitter liquid. Tohru was only sorry they didn't have anything to store the water in.

A short time later, she was sorry for an entirely different reason. Their stumbling steps halted completely as sickness forced them to their knees, alternately vomiting up the tainted water and the carrion bird flesh and groaning at the cramping in their guts. Banto, who had drunk the most water among them, was stretched out on the ground, his eyes glaring at her accusingly from his green-tinged face. "You poisoned us, you witch," he gasped. "We're gonna die."

Tohru was unable to answer as her stomach heaved again. "Shut up," Tsuyoshi muttered tiredly. "Just shut the fuck up, Banto."

"Ooooh." Banto rolled over miserably. "Ooooh gods. Nothing but vultures and reptiles to eat and poison to drink. We're not gonna make it. We're gonna die like dogs."

As if on cue, a low, sinister growling began, and dread pierced through the haze of pain and sickness hanging over them. A large, black wolf was standing a few feet away, its four eyes glowing red, its teeth bared menacingly. _Are wolves supposed to have that many teeth?_ Tohru wondered crazily. Beside her, Tsuyoshi slowly reached for his sword. "Maybe it'll go away," he said in a low voice. "Don't make any sudden—"

With a panicked cry, Banto scrambled away, but the wolf was upon him in an instant, sinking its teeth into his leg. Tsuyoshi swung his sword, and with a snarl the wolf turned on him. Tohru picked up Banto's sword and struck at the wolf as hard as she could, laying it open from hip to leg. Dark blood poured out of its wound, and the wolf yelped and bounded away into the desert. 

White-faced and panting, Tohru looked up at Tsuyoshi. He smiled grimly. "Good one, Tohru-san. Let's hope you killed it."

They turned to Banto, and Tohru tore a strip from her skirt to bind his wound. He was loath to move, but Tsuyoshi warned that the wolf might not have been alone, so he and Tohru pulled Banto up and slung his arms over their shoulders, practically dragging him. They continued like this for as long as they could, but sickness and fatigue and lack of food—they had, after all, vomited up all the contents of their stomachs—had drained them of what little strength they had, and they were forced to stop and lie down, completely spent. 

Evening fell. Tohru portioned out the meat among them, giving the biggest slice to Banto, but the poor man refused to eat. Banto had grown sicker and sicker as the wound on his leg began to fester. She tore more strips off her skirt to change the binding, then lifted his head on her lap, chewed up some meat and pushed the softened mass into his mouth with her fingers. When Banto turned his head away, Tohru sighed and sat back, keeping his head on her lap, and looked up to find Tsuyoshi watching her. "What is it?"

"You," he replied, his face soft with admiration. "You're a hell of a lot stronger than you let on. I've never met anyone like you, Tohru-san."

She shook her head. "I'm only strong because you are, Tsuyoshi-san. You and Banto-san both."

"Don't count on Banto's strength too much," he said wryly. "Poor bastard. If we don't get him to a healer soon he ain't gonna make it." He gazed up at the sky and frowned. "I hate to tell you this, but we've strayed off course. We've been drifting northward since yesterday. We're getting too close to the cursed forest."

"The place beyond the forest is steeped in magic. Anything can happen."

"What?"

She smiled. "Oh, nothing. Just something my mother told me about the forest. You should get some sleep, Tsuyoshi-san. I'll sit with Banto-san and keep watch."

He nodded and lay down, and was asleep almost instantly. Soon, even Banto slept, although his rest was not obviously not as easy as Tsuyoshi's. He thrashed around and grimaced and moaned, and Tohru was dismayed, although not surprised, to find that he was burning with fever. She stared up at the sky, letting the silver moon see the desperation she tried so hard to conceal from her companions. "Yaori, please help him," she prayed. "Please help us all."

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting like that, just staring at the moon, but she knew what brought her back to earth. Heat flared from the Sun Stone, and she gasped and pressed a hand on her chest. The heat was spreading through her body and throbbing in time with her heartbeat; not the scorching fire she'd felt back in the marketplace, but close enough. The mark between her breasts was already glowing blue. "What—?"

Something growled. Her eyes widened, and she looked up. They were surrounded by an entire army of wolves whose eyes glowed red in the darkness, a galaxy of eyes and jagged teeth. They were hanging several feet away, nearly encircling them. Watching and waiting.

But the wolves weren't the ones who growled, she realized with sick horror, as she found herself face to face with a feral-looking Banto. He was crouching in front of her, his teeth bared, foam trickling from one corner of his mouth. His eyes were glowing as red as the wolves.

__

Mad dog! "Tsuyo—"

With inhuman speed, Banto pounced, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing hard, cutting off her cry for help. Black spots swam in her vision until Tsuyoshi threw Banto off her, and oxygen rushed into her lungs. "Tohru-san, you all right?"

"Yes," she croaked as she pushed herself up, her hand closing around Banto's sword. They stood back to back in a ring of wolves. Banto crouched on all fours among them, snarling menacingly. "He's gone," Tsuyoshi stated darkly. "That ain't Banto anymore."

The Sun Stone flashed brighter, and she cried out. 

"Tohru-san?"

"I'm fine!" _Do something!_ _If you're going to help us, do it quick!_ The stone responded with an explosion of heat so intense she half expected her clothes to catch fire. She was dimly aware of Tsuyoshi calling her name, and when she raised her eyes, she thought she saw her mother standing not far away.

__

Run!

With a gasp, she straightened. "Tsuyoshi, we have to run."

"What?!"

__

Run!

"This way!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him through a gap in the ring of wolves, waving her sword. The wolves retreated from the wildly swinging blade, but gave chase the next moment, and Tohru could hear Banto's harsh voice among them. One of the wolves made a flying leap, and only Tsuyoshi's quick swing saved him from getting his spine yanked out from his neck. 

Barely aware of what she was doing, Tohru pushed him behind her and raised a hand. White ribbons of light wrapped around her body as a stream of blue-white flame blasted from her fingertips, turning the wolves closest to them into howling balls of fire. She screamed along with the wolves and fell to her knees. The heat was burning her alive. 

__

Run!

Shuddering with pain, she forced herself up and shoved a shocked Tsuyoshi forward. The wolves fell back at her attack, but seeing their companions get cooked wouldn't stop them for long. Tsuyoshi halted suddenly, and she slammed into his back and staggered until he caught her by the arm. "Tohru-san, the forest!" he said urgently. She followed his gaze to the line of shadows and gray mist rising up in front of them. The miasma of evil was thick enough to smother a man.

For the first time, Tsuyoshi balked. "We can't go in there. The Deadlands is one thing, but not the forest. No one's ever survived the forest. _No one_!"

Darkness was creeping into her consciousness, and Tohru swayed on her feet. _No!_ she thought desperately. _I can't get sick now. Please, not now!_ The baying of wolves drifted from behind them, and the moonlight shone down on a heaving sea of fiery red eyes. They were trapped between the wolves and the forest. Resolve straightened her spine, and she put herself between Tsuyoshi and the sea of wolves, blue and white light rippling around her. Another blast would kill her, she knew with a cold certainty, and not even Tsuyoshi with all his courage could last all alone in this hellhole. But she had to try.

She raised her arm again, but before she could let the power loose, a hand fell on her shoulder. "Don't," Tsuyoshi said.

She glanced at him in confusion. "What?"

His face was calm, even smiling, and her heart wrenched when she realized where she'd seen this expression before. On Touma's face, just before he sacrificed himself to save them. "You should go, Tohru-san. Into the forest. I'll deal with these jackals."

She began to cry, deep, heaving sobs of anguish. "No! No, no, Tsuyoshi-san. I won't leave you! Don't make me leave you!"

"Tohru!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, and she blinked at him through her tears. "It'll be all right," he said quietly. "I saw her. Your mother. She says it'll be all right."

"M-mother?"

"Red hair, white cloak, pretty as an angel." He smiled and touched her cheek. "Just like you. Now go. Your way lies in the forest. Your magic can get you through. Go!"

He threw her from him, and she stumbled toward the forest. She looked back at the lone figure walking toward moonlight and death with his sword raised. He glanced at her, and raised a hand in a jaunty salute. 

__

Don't be afraid, his eyes seemed to say. _This was meant to be_.

She spun around and hurled herself into the forest. At her first step, the world seemed to ripple and skew madly, as if she'd pushed against the invisible bubble that formed reality. A terrible rumble shook the ground, and green lightning forked down from the heavens as the forest attempted to drive out the trespasser. She flinched, raising her arms to shield her face, but the light from the Sun Stone seemed to repel the lightning, and she managed to push her way into the dark, misty woods. Branches clawed at her, roots thrust up to block her way, and vines attempted to strangle her, but the power of the Sun Stone flared brighter, turning her into a living torch of blue-white flame, and even the forest drew away from it. The heat made every movement an agony, and her mind simply shut down. She was running purely on instinct now. 

Eyes watched her from the shadows, eyes that glowed with unholy hunger. Crashing footsteps dogged her own, and still Tohru ran. She didn't know how long she had until she collapsed and the beasts overcame her. All she knew was she was dying, and her heart grew light. _I'll see them again_, a voice whispered inside her. _Shigure-san, Hatsuharu-san, Momiji-kun, Uo-chan. Touma-san. Tsuyoshi-san. I'll be with Mother again. _

And Tohru ran joyfully to her death.

Unaware that following her, scampering high among the branches, was a silvery-white mouse whose violet eyes reflected an impossible mixture of wonder, confusion and sheer astonishment.


	18. Book 2, Chapter 21

* - * - *

After seven years of living as Akito's prisoner, Yuki was sure he'd seen every shocking, horrifying thing the world could throw at him, and he'd pretty much lost the ability to be surprised along with the right to his own body. Or so he believed.

So he was unprepared for his reaction when the intruder finally appeared. He'd been waiting on a branch near the edge of the forest, positioned directly above the path the intruder would take. The plan was simple. He'd drop down on the man and poke the twig into a pressure point at the base of the neck, one that would take away all feeling in the man's body. Another pressure point would bring unconsciousness. The pressure points granted a peaceful death if done properly, and over the years Yuki had become extremely skilled at the leap-poke-leap away tactic. Of course, he didn't always get a chance to do it on a full-grown, wildly panicking human. This intruder was lucky he got there before the monsters did.

The barriers seemed to be fighting particularly hard against this intruder, though. Normally, the barriers of Akito's realm resembled a great dark void, as if the edge of the realm tumbled right into space. The barriers did distort space; Yuki had attempted to cross them before, and he always ended up drifting in frozen darkness until the void spat him back into the forest. Attempting to cross the barriers from his end was an exercise in frustration. Attempting to cross the barriers from the outside, however, was often fatal, especially when the electrical storms came into play, as they were doing now. The black wall of emptiness crackled and swelled with every blinding arc of green lightning, and the ominous rumbling in the ground echoed every roll of thunder here in this realm. He didn't think he'd ever seen the barriers so agitated.

He felt it before he saw it. A surge of power coming through the barriers, almost as if an invisible sword was slicing through them. The air became electric, and his fur stood on end. He didn't know what shocked him more: the fact that someone was coming who had power great enough to fend off the barriers' attacks, or the fact that the power felt strangely familiar to him…

Blue and white rays cut through the void like sunlight through mist. He readied himself to pounce, twig clamped firmly between his teeth. A gap in the barriers opened up—

—and a girl burst through it, her body lit up by a corona of blue and white light. Yuki nearly fell off his branch. Her dark hair flew wildly around her as she ran through the trees, her breaths coming out in jagged gasps. From the shadows, Yuki could see several monsters already on her tail, following her as lions would a dying gazelle. With a jolt he realized that she'd run past him while he gaped at her, and he spun around and set off in pursuit.

She was easy enough to track—she glowed like a beacon against the forest's perpetual gloom, but her path veered erratically, as if she was running half-blind. Terror lent her wings; Yuki was hard pressed to keep up with her. He lost sight of her for a moment, although he could still hear her, or more to the point, hear the monsters growling around her. When he found her again, she was sprawled on the ground where she'd tripped on a root. Her face was a white oval of fear, her mouth open in a silent scream, but her wide blue eyes were completely blank, as though her mind had already detached itself as a defense against the coming ordeal. Yuki heard the guttural snarl before he saw the claw-bear stalking toward her on its hind legs, its fanged maw gaping wider than any bear's jaws had a right to, its massive front paws raised for the first and final swipe.

In a flash, Yuki swerved toward the claw-bear, but the girl was faster. Her arm flew up as if to ward off the claw-bear's attack, and a stream of blue-white fire exploded from her hand, hitting the bear dead-center and turning it into a smoldering heap of ash before continuing on into the forest, downing a few more monsters and incinerating trees in a wide swath. Yuki himself barely escaped. He dangled from the branch inches from the blast, and the tip of his tail stung where it hung too close to the heat. At her choked cry, he tore his stunned gaze from the path of destruction—it was the first time he'd actually seen daylight in the forest—and turned toward the girl. She was lying on her side, her body twitching weakly. The monsters drew back, not wanting to mess with an intruder who could turn a claw-bear into a pile of dust, but the girl had paid too high a price for that respect.

He jumped down, wincing as his burned tail hit the ground, and ran toward her. The blue-white flames of her aura curled around him, but instead of scorching him, the flames felt warm, comforting and maddeningly familiar. Up close, he could see how painfully thin she was. Her filthy, ragged dress hung loosely on her and her skin had an unhealthy gray pallor. She was obviously sick, even without the torture her power was subjecting her to. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were half-open and unfocused, and Yuki gazed into them, wondering what she was seeing. 

"Miss?" He waved his paw in front of her eyes. "Can you hear me? Miss?" 

Her breath rasped thinly, and that was all. Yuki scanned her worriedly. The girl was close to death, but something was keeping her from slipping away. The flames licked at him again, warm and inviting, pouring from her chest. He padded over and after the briefest moment of hesitation, pressed a paw between her breasts. Power shot through him, bright and sharp. Power he'd felt long, long ago. Power he instinctively knew he could command. 

Although how, he had no idea.

"Keep her alive," he said to the power, feeling a bit foolish as he did so. "Don't let her die."

The aura throbbed brighter in response, and the girl's body twitched again. Now this was a problem. The blue fire that was protecting her was also killing her, so that the girl was being pulled between life and death by the same force. It was the forest, he realized. The power recognized the forest as a threat and was hell-bent on protecting her from it, but at the cost of her life. He needed to get her to some place safe; only then would the power release her. In any case, they needed to get away before the monsters recovered from their distress and came back. 

And he knew just the place.

He moved back to the girl's face. "Miss, wake up. Please, you must wake up. We have to get out of here. Come on, look at me. Wake up!" he finally shouted, thumping her on the cheek.

To his relief, her eyes flickered and a weak moan slipped past her lips. He stood in front of her, waiting for her to focus on him. "Don't be afraid," he said, a little apprehensive about how she'd react to the sight of a talking mouse. "I'm not one of the monsters. I'm here to help."

She blinked slowly, then to his surprise, she smiled. "I know," she whispered faintly. "I can tell from your eyes." Her own eyes drifted shut, and for the fourth time in the space of an hour, Yuki was stunned to near immobility.

He shook himself. She'd slipped into unconsciousness while he was standing there gawking like an idiot, and with a muttered curse, he moved to her chest and pressed both paws over the blue light. A vague memory of a regal-looking man wielding a sword in one hand and a staff in the other drifted in his mind, and a voice out of his hazy past spoke to him: _The Sun Stone responds to two things: blood and authority. Make sure you have both when you attempt to wield it. _

He took a deep breath and called to the power. _Reign in_, he thought, trying to inject as much authority as he could in that command. _Keep her alive. Give her strength, not fury. Reign in_.

The power obeyed, and the aura subsided, draining out of her body and shrinking back to her chest until it vanished completely. The girl lay unmoving, however, and for a moment Yuki was afraid he'd killed her. He patted her cold cheek, calling to her with growing desperation. "Wake up, Miss, wake up, gods, don't give up now, _wake up_!"

Her eyes flew wide open and she gasped. He moved back as she pushed herself up on her elbow, and he was relieved to see that her eyes had lost their unfocused haze. "Are you all right?" 

She nodded.

"We need to get you out of here," he continued. "I know a safe place. Can you walk?"

"I'll try," she croaked, and promptly put her words to action by standing up shakily. He watched her struggle against her own weakness, and admiration flashed through him. The girl had guts, he'd give her that. 

"Follow me." He scampered forward, glancing back constantly to check on the girl. She followed him, although he could see that the burst of strength that revived her was swiftly draining away. When she staggered and slowed, he turned and spoke encouragingly to her, urging her onward. Thankfully the monsters kept their distance; he didn't want to think about what would happen if they did decide to attack.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally came to the clearing, and Yuki breathed in its clean, invigorating scent, so different from the rest of the forest. He headed toward the cave formed by the half-buried roof of the pagoda, but the girl had caught sight of the lake, and was stumbling toward it with pathetic eagerness. She dropped on her knees and crouched low, drinking her fill like a starving thing. Which she probably was, he realized.

He darted toward her and tugged at her hair to get her attention. "Enough, Miss," he said softly. "You'll make yourself sick if you drink too much." She stared at him, then at the tempting vision of the lake, and nodded.

He led her back to the cave, where she collapsed against the wall and slid down until she lay curled up on her side. He crept closer, and was glad to see the slightly deeper rise and fall of her chest. She turned sea-blue eyes clouded with exhaustion to him. "Thank you." 

He shook his head. "No need. You did most of the work."

She glanced around. "I'm in the cursed forest, aren't I?"

"Yes. Don't be afraid," he said again. "You're safe here."

Her eyes were fluttering closed. "I'm not afraid. You're here…Yuki." The last word was spoken on a sigh, and the next minute she was asleep.

Yuki stared at her sleeping face, completely taken aback. _How did she—?_ Another memory drifted into his mind. He'd seen her before, somewhere, but the memory faded away before he could pin it down. The girl knew his name. How in seven hells was that possible?

Thunder rolled again, taking his mind off his confusion. He turned and eyed the storm clouds. It was going to rain soon. He had to work fast. Using one of the broad, spiny leaves that littered the forest floor as a makeshift cart, he plucked some _amakaji_, piled them on the leaf, and dragged the whole thing back to the cave. He glanced at the girl when he came back with another leaf full of berries, and froze. She was lying exactly as he left her, but her body trembled with every hitching breath as tears seeped from her still-closed eyes and rolled down her thin cheek into her hair. He abandoned the berries and approached her cautiously. As if sensing his presence, she opened her eyes, and he found himself gazing into dark blue pools of pain.

"They're gone," she whispered. "All of them. Tsuyoshi-san—Tsuyoshi-san was the last. He died protecting me. They all did."

He said nothing, letting her empty her grief onto the earth. Her pain touched echoes in his own broken soul. Her anguish became his own, her loss his loss, and the tears she wept were the same ones he had locked in his heart. She continued to cry silently, her eyes holding his in mute desperation, and he knew that if she shattered at that moment, he would shatter with her. 

"If only I'd been stronger." The words fell from her lips and mingled with her tears. "They wouldn't have had to protect me. They wouldn't have had to die. But I was too weak."

That blatant untruth pulled him from his trance, and Yuki found his voice again. "I don't know who you are, or where you came from, but I do know this: Nobody weak could have endured what you just did." She stared at him as if he'd spoken gibberish, and he leaned forward, willing her to believe him. "You're _alive_. By all rights you shouldn't be, but you are. If your life is something people gave up their own lives to protect, then you owe it to them to respect their sacrifice by believing in yourself, the way they believed in you."

Her eyes widened briefly before drifting shut again. Yuki sat back, wondering where he'd wrung that speech from, but wherever it was, he was a little surprised to find that he meant it. This girl was special. He'd never met anyone with her courage and spirit before, not even in the years before the destruction. 

Anyone who could contain the Sun Stone without going stark raving mad had to be unique.

The thought made him positively lightheaded. The Sun Stone. There was no mistaking the power that surged through him when he touched her. Jewel of the King's Staff, through which the kings of Kaibara—his ancestors—wielded their magic. In the hands of a master, the Sun Stone became a weapon of awesome power, capable of leveling a city in a single blast, and that display in the forest was only a small demonstration of its abilities. His father used to create such fantastic pyrotechnics with the magic of the staff, and he'd heard tales of the staff's more destructive potential being brought to bear back in the time of the Great Wars. The Sun Stone was an artifact able to channel and increase one's own magic a hundred, even a thousandfold. And now the Sun Stone was here, right in front of him, and all he had to do was reach out and take it—

__

And then what? an insidious voice whispered in his mind. _You don't know how to use it. Your talent for sorcery is worse than nil. You hope to battle Akito with it? You know as much as this girl about controlling the Stone. It would be useless in your hands._

Blood and authority, he tried to argue against the voice. _The Stone belongs to the king of Kaibara. It's mine by right._

But there is no king, my dear Yuki, the voice intoned silkily. _No kingdom, no king. And authority? You have none even over your own body._

He withered at the words, but the voice had one last thing to say. _If you take the Stone from her now, the girl will die. The Stone is keeping her alive. Take it, and her blood will be on your hands._

His freedom or the girl's life.

Yuki sagged in defeat. No. He wouldn't do it, not for the dubious chance of getting his hands on a magical object he didn't know how to control in order to fight a sorcerer whose power more than matched the Stone. He'd only end up doing far more damage, and Akito would be gifted with one more weapon to add to his arsenal. No, he wouldn't waste the girl's life for that. 

The disappointment at yet another thwarted escape weighed him down more than ever before. With a sigh, he turned to attend to the berries, but the girl chose that moment to open her eyes again. Their gazes met, and Yuki was relieved to see that the dull sheen of despair had faded from the sea-blue depths. 

"You're right," she said softly. "I—I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

His own eyes softened. "Don't be. Don't ever be sorry about what you feel. Can you sit up, Miss? I've brought some food."

With an effort she pushed herself up to a sitting position as he tugged the leaves full of berries closer to her. The berries disappeared faster than he'd ever seen them, although she did make a visible effort to slow herself down. He watched her with a pang of pity, wondering what suffering she had gone through before she came to this place. "I'm sorry it's only berries," he apologized when she'd polished off the last one. "I'll find you something more substantial to eat as soon as I get a fire going."

She shook her head. "No, no, it's all right. The berries were wonderful. I don't think I've ever eaten anything as delicious before. What are they?" 

His whiskers twitched in amusement. "Sweetberries. Although I'm not so sure I should trust your judgment about food at the moment."

"They're wonderful, wonderful! I love sweetberries. They're my favorite food in the whole world." 

"After having sampled them only once?"

"Oh yes! Sweetberries are—are almost magical, you see. That's right, magical," she babbled.

There was something odd about her voice. Yuki peered at her closely. Her skin was still a sickly white, but two spots of color had appeared on her cheeks and her eyes were wide and bright. Too bright. With a muttered apology, he jumped lightly on her lap then onto her shoulder. She giggled as his whiskers tickled her neck, but mirth was the farthest thing on his mind right now. The heat radiating from her nearly overwhelmed him. "You're burning up with fever." 

She looked at him through glazed eyes and smiled brightly. "I—I _am_ feeling a bit dizzy." Like a felled tree, she toppled sideward until she lay on the ground, breathing unevenly through her mouth. Yuki gazed at her anxiously, bitterly aware of his own helplessness. He needed to get the fever down, but what in the world could a mouse do? 

__

"Being able to cure fevers is better than just being nice to look at, don't you think?"

Once again, he was rescued by a hated memory of his past. He turned and scampered away to gather the little white and yellow flowers, but her voice stopped him. "Don't go," she begged. "Please stay. Don't leave me. Please, Yuki."

The sound of his name on her lips sent an unexpected stab of pain through him, but the girl didn't seem to notice. She reached out to him, and he wrapped both paws around her finger. "I won't leave you," he said quietly. "I just have to go away for a while, but I'll come back. I promise."

He met her imploring gaze steadily, until at last she nodded. He scurried out of the clearing and up a tree, picking some leaves off, then he snapped off several flowers and carried the lot back to the cave. He'd just picked up the last twig for the fire when thunder hammered against the metal-gray sky and fat, icy raindrops began to pound into the ground. He added the twig to the small pile he'd already made, but was brought up short by a problem he should have foreseen: How did a mouse go about making fire? 

He stood over the slightly damp pile of wood, stumped and thoroughly annoyed with himself, and failed to notice the girl move until she spoke. "Excuse me."

He turned. The girl had raised herself on one elbow. She flicked her hand, and the twigs suddenly burst into blue-tinged flame. He gaped at the fire, then at the girl, who was biting her lip guiltily. "I'm sorry. I just had this thought—something told me I should do it—I'm sorry."

"No." He cleared his throat. "No, it's all right. It's good, actually. You're learning to control it."

She sank wearily to the ground. "It's not that. Something really did tell me I should make a fire. I—I think it was the Stone."

Now _that_ was unexpected. A tiny spark of hope flared, despite his best efforts to quell it. The Sun Stone was responding to him. _Maybe there was still a chance_, a faint, traitorous voice whispered. _Maybe if she _gave_ the Stone to him instead of him taking it from her…_

In that case, he had better keep her alive then.

"Miss?" 

She groggily opened her eyes. 

"Here. It's for the fever." She blinked at the flowers he was offering up to her. "Earth-stars. Although, I think they're meant to be boiled first, but, well—" His gaze slid away, hiding his shame at his own uselessness. "I have some more berries here, though. Chew some together so the flowers will be easier to swallow."

After a pause, she obeyed, downing the flowers along with the berries, although the earth-stars apparently didn't taste nearly as wonderful as her "favorite food in the whole world," judging from her grimace. She lay back down, and he pressed one of the leaves on her brow to cool her off. He stayed with her as the fever began to peak, changing the leaf and squeezing berries until the purple juice fell upon her parched lips, patting her hand when she began to thrash about, listening to her mutter and weep as delirium set in. She called out names in her fevered sleep—Shigure, Hatsuharu, Momiji, Uo-chan, and later Touma and Tsuyoshi. Sometimes she would speak to them, asking them what they'd like for dinner, laughing at jokes they'd told her before. Sometimes she'd cry, screaming their names as tears rolled down her face. He could only watch her with aching compassion as the fever forced her to relive her nightmares, and several times he caught himself calling upon those people she had obviously loved and lost, asking them to help her get through this. The fact that he could do little else cut him to the quick.

He stayed with her through hour after agonizing hour. The rains continued to pour, the enchanted blue fire continued to light up the small cave, and her body continued to burn. He stayed with her for as long as he dared, but with each passing minute he grew more and more desperate. Her fever showed no sign of letting up, and he was running out of time. The day would soon be over, and twilight was setting in. He could already feel the choking nausea and the electric tingles that signaled his impending transformation. 

His head bowed when he realized he had no choice. He had to go. If he stayed, he would be a greater danger to her than the barriers, the forest and all its monsters combined. He had to leave.

"Wake up, Miss," he pleaded softly. "Listen to me. I can't stay. I have to go. I'm sorry."

He didn't really expect her to hear him, but somehow his voice managed to reach her through the fever. Her eyes flew open and found his. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'll be back tomorrow, I swear it. Stay in the clearing at all times. You're safe as long as you're in the clearing. Wait for me, all right?" he added, sounding more cheerful than he felt.

Her lips moved, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to beg him to stay again. Instead, she smiled at him, a sweet, trusting smile that pierced his soul. "I'll wait," she whispered. "I understand now. I'm not afraid anymore, Yuki. You're here." Her eyes closed, and the fever claimed her again.

__

Delirium, he thought. _It had to be. Her words made no sense_. The nausea surged up again, and he swallowed against it. He had lingered too long already. 

He drew near her and pressed his paws between her breasts, where the Sun Stone lay. "Keep her alive," he commanded it. "Don't let her slip away, no matter what. _Keep her alive_."

Then he turned and ran.

The rain beat down upon him in punishing blows, but he didn't feel it. He ran down the lakeshore faster than he had ever run before, trying to get as far away from the clearing as he could. The storm had turned the day into night long before the sun had set, but he didn't need to see the sun sinking into the earth to feel the effect of the curse. White and purple mist surrounded him as his body began to glow, and he stumbled and fell as the tremors overcame him. He lifted violet eyes to the shadowy figure of the tower, while within the whirlwind of white mist, his mouse body turned into molten silver, shifting outward and upward until its shape grew taller, longer, taking on human form. He uttered one last desperate prayer—

__

—keep her safe—

—and then Yuki was lost.

Author's Notes:

Whoa. That took a lot out of me. First Yukiru moment done. More to come—it's the heart of Book 2, after all. I'm sorry the updates have slowed. I've been sneaking this fic at the office, and am living in mortal fear of getting caught by my boss and getting my butt fired right out the window. In the next installment, it'll be Kyo's turn to meet Tohru. And of course, Akito. 

Sorry, sorry, sorry it took so long to lead up to this chapter. A friend warned me about sheltering your characters, but I think I went a bit overboard. The chapters are plain exhausting. Oh by the way, monsters and stuff were inspired by Diablo 2, Stephen King, and every dark and gory anime I've ever watched. And um, to R Junkie's question: Yuki _could_ be aware of Akito's doings while he's renting out Yuki's body, but Yuki's purposely built his own cage to hide from Akito. So he's not by choice.

And to all you guys who're (still) reading and reviewing, thank you forever. It's almost worth getting my butt fired if you guys are enjoying this fic. (Almost, because I do need to eat. ^__^)


	19. Book 2, Chapter 22

* - * - *

The boy stood where the mouse had been, clothed in nothing but swirling white mist. As the mouse had done moments before, he lifted his face toward the tower, his violet eyes as empty as a broken doll's. Oblivious to the rain, he took a step toward the lake, then another, and another. Instead of sinking into the lake, his bare feet rested as firmly on the water's surface as on the ground. A line of bright, silvery light appeared on the surface of the lake, stretching between the shore and the island, and upon this bridge of light the boy walked toward the tower. As he drew closer to the island, the boy's body began to glow a sickly shade of green, and the white mist coalesced around him, solidifying into a long-sleeved, high-collared shirt and trousers of pure white silk and boots of gleaming white leather. An obsidian pendant carved in the shape of a bird of prey hung from his neck, and a sword appeared at his side, slung at his hip. But the greatest change was in the boy's face. Blank violet eyes faded into ice-gray slits, and a coldly satisfied smile bloomed on the once expressionless face. 

The boy stepped off the bridge of the light. Akito had come home. 

The sheet of rain parted for him, and winged shadows darker than night wheeled above him, their high, thin shrieks tearing through the thunder. He looked up at the shadows, the smile on his lips deepening. Raising a hand, he summoned the shadows to him, and with a final wail of defiance they twisted downward from the sky, enveloping him in a black gale of malevolent energy. He ran his fingers through his silvery hair and closed his eyes as he savored the power humming through him, awakening every nerve and drop of blood. Really, these demonic servants of the dark god were quite useful. In their efforts to gather enough dark energy to strengthen their master, they were strengthening _him_ instead, and Akito could feel the impotent rage of the dark god in the faint rumbling of the earth. The dark god could rage all it wanted. The chains binding it to Akito merely tightened the more it struggled against him, and all its strength and fury and corruption would be his to command once more. 

It was good to be alive.

His smile became a soft, silky laugh. Neither time nor death could subdue him; he had conquered both, and no enemy could hope to stand up to him now. The Twelfth House of Heaven was moving inexorably into position, and like the Goddess, his power waxed as the hour grew near. The earth itself trembled with anticipation, and with the coming of the girl, the last piece had fallen into place. 

He ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the few raindrops that had fallen there. Ah yes, there it was. The delicate charge of alien magic, staining the rain with the faintest trace of sweetness and warmth. The magic had changed subtly since the last time he'd felt it, but that must be the girl's doing. Her life force mingled with the power of the artifact, altering it in ways not even that ridiculous peacock of a mage could have foreseen. No matter how carefully one planned it, merging a magical artifact with a human body produced results that were unpredictable at best, and he doubted that the fool mage's intentions in sending the girl into his realm included giving Akito the very weapon he needed to break through the final obstacles in his way. 

"Ayame, Ayame," he murmured, his voice full of laughter. "Your faith in your prince is touching, but misguided. I must remember to thank you before I kill you for the second and last time." 

The heavy double doors of the tower flew open before him as he strode into the great hall, the shadow-wraiths trailing behind him. Tongues of fire flickered to life, bleeding scarlet into the stone walls. The craven little monkey-boy, dressed as usual as a kitchen-maid, cowered behind a pillar in one corner of the hall, hoping to hide from the glacier-like gaze, but Akito was having none of it. 

"Little Miss Monkey," he called, his voice like the whisper of a blade. "Come out, come out, Little Miss Monkey."

Whimpering, Ritsu crept out from behind the pillar and threw himself at Akito's feet. "I—I'm sorry, Master, f-forgive me for not m-meeting you, I was in the k-k-kitchen, I'm sorry, p-please forgive me, please—_augk_!"

With a gesture, Akito closed up Ritsu's throat, lifting him up in the process. The boy choked and turned white then blue as his feet kicked feebly in the air, while the shadow-wraiths howled eagerly, excited by the prospect of death. "Don't be tiresome, Miss Monkey," he said mildly, "or I may forget how you amuse me on occasion."

He released his hold, and Ritsu fell to the floor, clutching his throat and coughing. "We have a new guest, didn't you know?" Akito said brightly. "Oh, of course you know. You have enough Sohma blood in you to sense the presence of the Sun Stone." 

Ritsu said nothing, but the expression on his face spoke volumes. The Sun Stone. The greatest weapon of the race of the Sun God. Somehow, somewhere, a miracle had occurred and this birthright of kings had fallen into the hands of the boy who had been crown prince of Kaibara. Salvation was at hand, glory be to Akkan.

Akito wrapped his arms around his stomach as his body shook with laughter. Oh yes, he could almost read the thoughts that were scurrying through the monkey boy's head, and that fool mage's as well, if his dismally unsubtle attempts at plotting and manipulation were any indication. The people of the Sun God, and the Sohmas in particular, had always been an overly simplistic lot. Might makes right. Superiority of arms is the key. He who has the gold—or the Stone, in this case—makes the rules. It was their faith in such hackneyed philosophies that made them so easy to deceive and ultimately destroy. Two hundred years had not changed anything.

__

Is this what you yearned for as well, my beloved Yuki? he asked, curling his thoughts around the soul he had trapped within this body. _The power of your ancestors, wrapped in an attractive, if somewhat scrawny, package. Did you try and take it from her? Or could it be that you realized that the Sun Stone had always been here, right beneath your feet, and it _didn't _choose you?_

He was met by a blast of white. Yuki had gone into hiding again. Akito smiled fondly and shook his head. He could smash through Yuki's mental defenses easily enough if he truly wanted to, although the barriers of white fog and snow storms were proving to be surprisingly resistant to his probing. However, Akito could afford to let him remain in his own self-made prison for the time being. He would never be too far away from him, anyway.

He noticed movement at the edge of his vision as the monkey boy tried to edge away from him. Akito speared him with a look, and Ritsu instantly froze. "I haven't dismissed you yet," he said in a deadly voice.

Ritsu shook his head jerkily, his frightened eyes never leaving Akito's face. "We have been quite negligent toward our guest, Miss Monkey," Akito went on. "The poor girl is alone in the forest, and rather ill, too. Yuki met her, but dear Yuki doesn't want to tell me anything. Don't you think it was rude of him not to invite her here to the tower, Little Miss Monkey?"

Ritsu nodded. 

"I thought so, too," Akito agreed. "But since she can't cross the lake, I suppose dear Yuki has a point. Still, it pains me to act so unwelcoming toward a guest. What do you think we should do?"

Ritsu knew better than to reply.

Akito's smile widened. "Well, if she can't come here, we must send an envoy. The other will do nicely. Bring him here."

In answer to his summons, the double doors of the tower flew open again. Ritsu cowered on the floor as two colossal tower-guardians strode in, dragging the unconscious form of a red-haired boy between them. They tossed the boy unceremoniously onto the floor before melting back into the walls. Red-gold mist still swirled around the slim, naked body, condensing into a coarse black shirt and a pair of ragged brown breeches.

Akito stood before the prone figure, waiting. He'd discovered a new amusement in these nightly duels with the child of sorrow. The Ashari boy was strong and fast and agile, and his fiery spirit would not allow him to accept defeat easily—a potent mixture Akito delighted in toying with and goading to breaking point. But more than the entertainment the boy's furious struggles and continuous rebellion provided, Akito took pleasure most of all in putting his own body through its paces. The Ashari boy moved like a great predator in a fight, but Yuki's body moved like a force of nature, as coldly relentless and unpredictable as a blizzard, and during their duels Akito liked nothing more than to drop his control, let his body's reflexes take over and simply observe the results. Tonight, however, marked the beginning of a new kind of duel between the Ashari boy and his beloved little brother, one that promised to be far more diverting than beating the boy to a bloody pulp with his bare hands.

Groaning, the Ashari boy pushed himself up and sat cradling his head in his hands. His torso jerked forward as he gagged against the nausea that accompanied the transformation. Akito gazed at him measuringly. The boy's aura had darkened from a clear gold to shades of red-orange and crimson as awareness settled upon him, and Akito could clearly see the ominous strain of black that marked him as a child of sorrow, as well as the jagged green arcs of the spell he'd put on him. The boy was twice-cursed. It should have been all too easy to shatter his defenses and release the floodgates of hatred, despair and self-loathing that would make him the perfect sacrifice for the spell of eternal binding, if it weren't for the inexplicable cloud of pale yellow tinged with pink that mingled with the boy's red-orange and black aura. It was this cloud that continued to resist Akito's efforts to draw the darkness around the boy—the few times he'd attempted to test the boy's readiness, the cloud deepened to a metallic copper hue, forming a surprisingly strong barrier against the spell. It amazed Akito that someone would actually think to cast a protection spell upon the boy—a flimsy and amorphous affair but effective nonetheless—and it infuriated him to be continually thwarted by it, but although protection spells of this nature were slightly more complicated to deal with, they were almost always the most satisfying to break. And now, thanks to that fool mage's clumsy attempts at a rescue mission, Akito had just been handed the key to stripping the boy of his last protective barrier completely.

Oh yes, he was going to enjoy this.

The boy raised his head, his wine-colored eyes widening when he realized that he was not in his cell. His gaze fell upon Akito, and the rage instantly ignited. "You!" he hissed. He leaped to his feet and swung a fist at him. "You damned—ugh!"

Akito sidestepped his attack and kicked him in the gut, sending him crashing against a pillar. He closed his fist, and an invisible hand seized the boy, trapping his arms at his sides and lifting him in the air. He twisted and fought but the force was too strong, and he hung in mid-air glaring furiously while Akito circled him. "Stupid but spirited, as always. Yes, you will do very nicely."

"What the fuck are you blathering about?" Kyo snarled as he continued to thrash about. "Fight me fairly, you gutless bastard! Quit hiding behind your damned sorcery and fight like a man!"

Akito clucked his tongue. "Such language. I do hope you learn to curb your tongue in the presence of a lady, or you'll be defeated before you've even begun."

"What lady?" Kyo's gaze darted toward the shadowy patch where Ritsu was still crouched, watching in morbid fascination. "You mean that cringing worm over there—" his lips twisted in a sneer "—or _you_, girly boy?"

"Resorting to insults already? You disappoint me, child of sorrow. But no matter." Akito drew the struggling boy toward him until they were nearly face to face. "I have a job for you. It's time for you to start earning your keep around here."

Kyo bared his teeth. "What the blazes gave you the idea that I'd do anything for you?"

Akito narrowed his eyes. Green lightning forked out of the ground and surrounded the insolent brat, and Kyo choked on a scream of pain as convulsions racked his body. When the lightning dissipated, the boy hung limply in the air, his body drenched in sweat. "Oh, did I forget to tell you?" Akito said lightly. "In this state you are completely mortal, child of sorrow. Now, unless you want to spend another night in the dungeon, I suggest you take this new chance at freedom I am so kindly offering you. The gods know you won't be winning it by defeating me in combat any time soon." 

The boy raised hate-filled eyes to him. "There's a girl lost in the forest beyond the lake, a trespasser into my realm, just like you," Akito continued. "Your business is with her." The air between them shimmered, and a dagger with a hilt shaped like a hawk's head appeared, hovering in mid-air. The light glinting on the wickedly curved blade drew Kyo's gaze, making its purpose starkly clear. "Take your time," Akito added carelessly. "The knife will know when the job is done."

"You want me to _kill_ her?" Kyo croaked in disbelief.

Ice-gray eyes glinted mockingly. "It shouldn't be too difficult for you, child of sorrow. After all, it won't be the first time you've murdered a helpless, innocent being."

The barb hit home, and the boy's face turned white. "Go to hell, you sick bastard!" he spat, renewing his struggles with greater violence. His enraged protest ended in a hoarse cry as the lightning arced over him again, his body jerking spasmodically until he fell to the ground, unconscious. Akito came to stand over him. It was amusing, really, how so much fire and bravado could conceal such a damaged soul. The foolish boy obviously thought to fight him to the bitter end, and he wondered how long that blistering defiance would last when the boy realized what fate Akito had in store for him.

His lips began to move, and his soft voice reverberated within the foundations of the tower itself.

"The blood of both will be the destroyer."

__

Just like the first one. How she had fought him too, even as the last drop of her blood spilled out onto the ground, but in the end all her efforts were useless. 

"The blood of both will be the savior."

__

The will of the Goddess will not be swayed.

"The Temple of Heaven will be rebuilt." 

He leveled a look at Ritsu, who was wrapped around a pillar looking like a particularly realistic effigy of horror carved out of the marble. "Give him what he needs and bring him to the edge of the forest. Somewhere near the clearing on the far side of the lake, I believe."

With that, he turned and swept away, living darkness trailing in his wake.


	20. Book 2, Chapter 23

* - * - *

The first thought that drifted up from the sea of insensibility was that his cell had sprung a leak.

Icy water lapped against his legs and pelted his back through his thin shirt, making him shiver. A very big leak. Somebody must have torn a hole right through the damned roof. Maybe that was why the floor felt so gravelly…

A sharp pain in his arm wrenched him rudely back to consciousness, and Kyo woke up with a gasp, glancing around wildly. His eyes widened when he realized where he was. Not inside his cell, or even anywhere within the tower. He was lying sprawled at the edge of a lake, half in and half out of the water. Veils of gray mist floated above the lake's surface, and through the darkness and mist the tower was only a looming shape in the distance, illuminated by flickering specks of crimson light. Behind him was a forest, if one could call the menacing wall of twisting black trunks and strangling vines a forest. The air was bitingly cold and smelled of mud, but at least he wasn't breathing in the dank, fetid smell of ages-old decay and his own filth. The ground underneath him was pebbly and slimy, but he thrust his hands into the cool earth, feeling the sand and mud give way beneath his fingers. His mouth opened in a silent cry of exultation. He was free. No more walls and cages and humiliating iron chains. Only the vastness of the heavens above him and the earth underneath his feet. He was _free_.

He was also soaking wet. The rains came down in sheets, but for a moment he reveled even in that, forgetting how he'd always hated the rain even in the best of times. He turned his face up to the sky—funny how the storm clouds looked close enough to touch—and let the rain stream down his face and shoulders in icy rivulets, flattening his hair against his head. He was going to pay for this indulgence later, but right now he didn't care. Right now there was nothing but him and the elements, and not even Kami Itself was going to take this away from him.

His hand touched something that was both coarse and yielding at the same moment the stinging pain on his left arm registered, reminding him of more immediate matters at hand. He touched his upper arm, and winced as his hand encountered the ragged, though fortunately shallow, wound. How'd he get wounded anyway? A souvenir from one of his undead jailers? He shrugged, setting aside the problem of his injury for the moment in favor of examining the coarse object beside him. It turned out to be a burlap sack containing a sodden heap of uncooked rice in a smaller sack, a scraggly bundle of long, thin leaves whose stink made his eyes water, some leathery strips that smelled like salted pork and a small cooking pot. He brought out each object and turned them around in his hands as he puzzled over them, except for the leaves, which he threw away in disgust. The leaves were leeks, a plant he wholeheartedly believed was put upon this earth solely to punish those stupid enough to eat them. He thrust everything else back into the sack, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with them. And while he was at it, what the hell was he doing outside his cell in the first place? Somehow, the idea that Yuki, perverse, cold-hearted bastard that he was, would set him free just like that, let alone be thoughtful enough to give him provisions for his journey back home, held even less water than one of Kyo's shirts after Kagura had wrung the life out of it in one of her fits of amorous domesticity. 

Something glinted on the ground, drawing his gaze, and the memory of his last exchange with the son of a bitch who ruled the tower before he was electrocuted into oblivion crashed over him like a tidal wave. The glint came from a dagger whose hilt was carved in the shape of a bird of prey. Kyo looked down at the knife with extreme distaste, reluctant to even touch it.

__

There's a girl lost in the forest beyond the lake, a trespasser into my realm, just like you. Your business is with her.

"Choke on your business, you shitty, two-bit conjurer." Giving vent to his anger made him feel a little better, and Kyo stood up, intending to walk out of this forest and head back home or, barring that, find some relatively decent shelter from all this damned water pouring from the sky, as his body was starting to remember how much he hated rain. He stooped to pick up the sack—shouldn't waste perfectly good rice and pork—then went still.

Something was watching him from the edge of the forest. The crouching shape was long and sleek-looking and went up well past his knees in height. _The proportions are all wrong_, a tiny part of his mind pointed out with unnecessary fastidiousness, because everything about the shape was wrong. The long tail ending in a vicious-looking ball of spikes, the thick, bony armor on its back, the two pairs of red, slitted eyes glowing hungrily in the darkness, the rows and rows of teeth as it opened its mouth and hissed at him.

Those teeth. His other hand crept up to his wound, feeling the punctures marks around the edges. Teeth marks. "You bit me," he rasped. "You bit me, you damned rat." 

The monstrous rodent stalked closer as it gradually lost its fear of him. Adrenaline flooded Kyo's bloodstream, effectively dispelling the sluggish feeling the rain gave him. He kept his eyes on the rat as it circled him, and as he met the four-eyed stare, Kyo had the sudden feeling that he'd encountered the creature before. Distracted by the bizarre thought, he almost didn't see the rat leap at him, teeth aiming for his groin. He twisted aside and swung out an arm, which happened to be holding the sack, and the metallic clang of the cooking pot hitting the rat's head was the most satisfying thing he'd heard in a long time. The rat fell back, and without thinking Kyo swept the dagger up. He didn't care if the blade had been given to him so he could slit his throat with it; right now the evil-looking thing was the only weapon he had. The dagger responded with an eager shiver, but he didn't have time to register the fact as the giant rat flew at him again, going for blood. He caught the rat by its fur, ignoring the pain as the creature sank its teeth into his arm, and sliced its throat open. Shaking with reaction and bleeding from two wounds, he dropped the rat's carcass and picked up the sack again, and was met by a sight that turned his blood into ice.

A swarm of glowing red eyes. An entire colony of giant rats was melting out of the forest, heading toward him. "Oh shit," was Kyo's succinct commentary, before he turned and ran.

The pattering of clawed feet pursued him. _Shit, shit, shit_, Kyo cursed as he sprinted down the shore with absolutely no idea where he was going. Not the lake, rats swam like fucking dolphins in the water. The forest? Not with every instinct warning him that the forest was the last place he wanted to be in. He couldn't fight all of them—they'd tear him to pieces within three minutes. _Come on, think! Think!_

A vision of greenish-gold grass and white and yellow flowers flashed in his mind. _Clearing—safe—_

Kyo stumbled. "What the hell?" _In Kami's name, not these delusions again_. A rat came within snapping distance, and he swiped at it with the dagger before pushing off again.

__

Clearing—nice smell—safe—

Then he saw it. A flickering blue light ahead, radiating as much welcome as anything else in this place, and even without his conscious command, his body was already making a beeline for it. A large gap opened in the forest's flank, like a slice cut out from a pie, and a sweet, clean fragrance filled the air. The blue light came from a small fire at the mouth of a smoothly conical cave. The cave had an unnatural look about it, and the fire even more so, but Kyo wouldn't have cared if the cave turned out to be an oversized wizard's hat and the fire spat little purple dragons as long as the people there had a weapon more substantial than his dagger. 

In a desperate burst of speed, he lurched toward the cave, but his appeal for help died in his throat. A girl lay there, her hair spilling on the ground around her head in a dark halo. She was painfully thin, dressed in the shabbiest collection of rags he'd ever seen, even counting the rags he was wearing, and was as white as a corpse, although her restless tossing and incoherent mumbling proved she was still alive. Kyo's jaw dropped as he stared at her, momentarily forgetting about the horde of giant rats in his shock. 

It was the girl that damned conjurer had sent him to kill. The dagger pulsed in his hand, and he dropped it revulsion. No way was he going to commit cold-blooded murder. No way in hell.

"Oy," he managed. "Oy, wake up. This is no time for you to be lying here—" He knelt beside her as he spoke, reaching out a hand to shake her, only to pull back from the waves of heat radiating from her. "Shit," he cursed. With a fever like that, no wonder she was insensible. He could practically dry himself out by just sitting near her. Belatedly, he noticed the slightly crushed leaf beside her head and the faint, green smears on her forehead, as well as a couple more leaves lying nearby with a few berries of some sort on them. He picked up the leaf beside her head. The sap felt cool against his fingers. Someone must have attempted to deal with her fever and feed her; somehow, he didn't think the girl was capable of standing on her own right now, let alone pick some cooling leaves off a tree and berries off some bush to have a snack. 

Oblivious to his presence, the girl turned her head to one side. "Yuki," she whispered.

Kyo jerked back as if somebody had kicked him. Hatred and rage lashed at him like a whip, rising up in reflexive response to the name, and it took him a few minutes to calm down enough for rational thought to reassert itself. She knew Yuki. Had probably met the bastard. Which made sense, if the conjurer knew enough about her to want her dead. But if she _had_ met Yuki, why was she still alive? The bastard had not been squeamish about killing before, and neither were his demonic servants. Why send Kyo to do his dirty work now? 

He gazed down at the pale, heart-shaped face. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

A chilling hiss snapped him out of his troubled musings. Kami, the rats! Wait a minute, why weren't they swarming over him yet? They weren't far behind… He stood up. Red eyes surrounded the clearing on all sides, peering from the edge of the forest. Not just rats. Other eyes stared at him hungrily, and something growled in the darkness. He and the girl were trapped.

The calm before an impending battle settled upon Kyo. He snatched up the dagger again, along with a burning fagot off the eerie blue fire, then frowned when the fagot turned out to be no bigger than a twig. He dropped it back in the fire disgustedly; he was only going to end up burning himself with that matchstick. He began to move away, intending to draw the rats and their friends away from the girl, when a soft voice made him go still.

"Stay in the clearing." 

His gaze snapped toward the girl. She was pushing herself up on her elbow, her hair falling over her face, muffling her labored breaths. She turned toward him, and sea-blue eyes met his, weary but fairly lucid.

"Don't move, idiot!" he said sharply. "You're going to make yourself sicker."

She froze at his command. "Stay in the clearing," she repeated in a weaker voice. "You're safe as long you're in the clearing."

"How the hell would you know?"

She sank back down, as if the effort of warning him had cost her. "Yuki…told me."

He could almost feel every hair on his body stand on end in sheer outrage. "Don't tell me you're fool enough to believe that lying son of a bitch!" he exploded.

She made no response. Kyo scanned the edges of the clearing again, where the rats continued to hover. _She had a point, though_, he grudgingly admitted. None of the rats or their friends was venturing into the clearing to get at him, and judging from their frustrated hissing, it wasn't for lack of trying. Another voice in his head seemed to purr with satisfaction as a vague memory of the clearing in the daylight surfaced from the depths of his mind. _Clearing—safe—_

"Shut up!" he growled at the alien voice. _Stay out of my head! Those aren't my thoughts, my memories…leave me alone!_ The pain from his wounds flared into his awareness now that it became evident that he wouldn't be forced to suffer something as ignominious as being gnawed to death by rodents as big as hounds, and his limbs began to tremble with fatigue. He was drenched to the bone and the chill was creeping over him and, on top of all that, he was starving. He stumbled back to the cave and after a vaguely irritated pause, squeezed in beside the girl as close as he could without actually touching her, trying to warm himself up by the fire. The cave was so small, he ended up with the entire left half of his body sticking out of the cave. It was damned uncomfortable, to say the least.

He scowled at the girl. "Oy, move over, will you?"

She turned and muttered something that sounded like "what a cute bunny, Momiji-kun." His eyebrows arched. So much for her moment of clarity. He squeezed in a bit more and, abandoning modesty for good sense, shucked off his wet shirt, wincing at the pain of his wounds. Blood had streaked down his right arm, making a ghastly mess. He cleaned the wounds as best he could with his shirt and considered tearing off strips to bind the wounds with, but he was reluctant to ruin what little clothing he had left. _Besides_, whispered the same disturbing instinct in his head, _come morning the wounds would cease to matter._ He shook his head in annoyance.

"I'm sorry, Shigure-san," the girl whispered beside him. "I should have waited for Hatsuharu-san like you told me to." She twisted restlessly, and to his alarm, she began to cry in her sleep, silvery tears trickling from her closed eyes. "I'm sorry…Shigure-san…look out!"

She moaned and twisted again, her face contorting in a mask of anguish. He stared at her, pity softening his gaze. "You're really sick, aren't you?" 

She whimpered faintly in reply.

He pulled the sack toward him and brought out the cooking pot and the food. There was just enough rice and pork here for two meals. _Or_, he realized as a worm of unease burrowed in his spine, _enough for two people_. He recalled the other item the sack had contained, which was now lying trampled in the mud. Leeks were believed to have medicinal purposes, and some misguided fools back in the settlement sometimes made a sort of gruel with rice and leeks to cure fevers. He looked at the girl. What in Kami's name was going on here anyway? Had he been given a plant to rid the girl of her fever and a knife to finish the job where the fever left off? The confusion was making his head ache, and he decided to leave off figuring out that damned conjurer's intentions until later.

The girl thrashed again, calling hoarsely for someone named Touma-san. Her arm flailed out and he grabbed it before it hit his thigh, then nearly dropped it again as the heat of her skin seared him. Deciding quickly, he collected some rain water in the pot, then lifted her head and pressed the pot's rim gently against her lips. "Here. Drink."

She resisted feebly at first, but soon she was gulping down the cool liquid. He set the pot out for more rain water, and noticed the small clump of white and yellow flowers lying near the berries. He picked one up and sniffed at it, and the clean, herbal smell reminded him of the teas the old healer back at the village used to brew. Old Nana Asako had been big on teas, claiming that a bunch of dead plants boiled in a pot could cure anything except rigor mortis, and only because the right combination of plants hadn't been found yet. Kyo had tolerated Nana Asako's tedious lectures on herb lore only so he could get his hands on her superb meat pies—he half-suspected she'd seasoned those pies with some of her more addictive weeds—and because, despite what he was, the lonely old woman seemed to find some comfort in his presence. His eyes darkened at the memories. Nana Asako had been among the many who never made it to the ship. Kyo had found her charred body wrapped around that of a child—the poor old woman had been trying to shield the child with her own body when they'd set them on fire. But he was heartened to find that not all of Nana Asako had been lost. Bits and pieces of her sermons came back to him now, faced as he was with a patient in dire need of the sort of help she could have given.

He tossed the flowers into the pot and set it on the fire. Just before the water began to boil, he took the pot out, held both hands over the steaming brew, closed his eyes and muttered a simple prayer. Warmth flowed from the earth, through his body and down to his hands, which glowed briefly with a reddish-gold light. When he finished, he opened his eyes and nearly jumped when he found the girl's sea-blue eyes wide open and staring at him. "W-what are you looking at?" 

"You know magic." Her voice was hushed with both weariness and awe.

Kyo's mouth fell open. "Magic? What the hell was so magical about that? That was just a dumb prayer of imbuing. Anyone with half a brain could do it."

"A prayer? But I—I felt it—from the ground—" 

"Kami dwells within all of creation. The prayer calls upon the healing properties of the earth, that's all," he explained, before shooting the girl a crabby look. "At least you're awake. I won't have to pry your jaws apart and pour this tea down your throat."

She blinked. "You made tea?"

Her astonished tone set his teeth on edge. "Yeah, I made tea. It's for your fever. There were these flowers—are you just going to lie there gawking or are you going drink the damned tea?"

She obediently tried to push herself up but fell back with a gasp, and with a muttered curse, Kyo lifted her again then moved behind her so that she was half-lying on his lap, and he held the pot to her lips while she drank. The fragrant steam from the tea and the warmth from the fire combined to make the tiny cave seem almost cozy, and when she finally turned her head away and closed her eyes, Kyo found himself oddly reluctant to move. Besides, he said to himself, at least every part of him was out of the rain, and it was easier to keep warm this way.

He shifted so that he was leaning back against the wall with the girl's head on his lap. Her lips parted and a little sigh escaped her, although he wasn't sure if it was one of discomfort or contentment. His stomach rumbled the next minute, and he flushed in embarrassment. With her ear practically pressed against his stomach, the sound probably sounded like thunder to her. 

Sure enough, the girl opened her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered. "I feel better now."

To his annoyance, his flush deepened, and he turned away to keep her from noticing it. "Yeah, well, hurry it up," he said ungraciously. "You're no lightweight, you know." 

It was an out-and-out lie; the girl felt no heavier than a feather to him, and judging from her near skin-and-bones state, he had probably been fed better. A meal of hot rice and pork was sounding more and more appealing with each passing minute. He was about to move to start on that meal, when he felt a light touch on his arm. He glanced down, but she was too busy frowning at his wounds to notice his forbidding expression. "You're bleeding."

He checked his arm and sighed. He must have jarred the wounds when he moved her, although the pain wasn't so bad. He'd always been a fast healer, anyway. He opened his mouth to tell her, when she pushed herself up to a sitting position, biting her lip at the strain. Her hands worked at her skirt, hiking it up to her knees and pulling ineffectively at the hem.

"What're you doing?" Kyo demanded.

"Bandages," she answered. "We have to keep your wounds clean."

"What? Oh for crying out loud, I don't need bandages. It's just a scratch—will you stop that? I said I don't need it!"

"No." The girl tried again to tear a strip off her skirt, her efforts becoming increasingly frantic as the cloth refused to give. "No, we can't let wounds fester. I have to take care of them. They're depending on me now, and I can't let them down. I won't let them down—Tsuyoshi-san—"

She choked on a sob, her fingers still digging weakly into the cloth. Watching her, Kyo found himself wondering what had happened that led her to this godforsaken place, and who these people were who'd depended on her. His heart twisted as he thought about his capture and the murder of his companions. It seemed he and the girl had that much in common. 

She started when his hands closed around hers, stilling their frantic movements. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, and he glared down at her. "I. Don't. Need. Them."

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him, her hair falling in a river of brown silk between them. _She's pretty_, a voice in his head whispered, half in surprise. He suddenly became aware that he'd encircled her in his arms to place his hands on hers, and that the feel of her body against his, warm and soft and solid, felt like heaven to his starved skin. It had been so long since he'd felt the simple, innocent touch of a human being…

Alarm bells rang in his head, penetrating the cobwebs, and he scrabbled away from her as far as the limited space allowed, his face glowing as red as his hair. "I—you—" 

She wasn't looking at him though, but at his wounds, her brow furrowed with worry. He wanted to yell at her to leave well enough alone, but he had to admit, the wounds did look rather ugly. "I'm sorry," she murmured, and he wilted, knowing he was beaten.

"All right, already!" He crawled over to her, grasped her skirt, and tore off a couple of strips from the inner lining, carefully avoiding her eyes as he ruined her dress even more. He sat back to bind his wound, but a small hand touched him on his arm again. "Oh, what now?" he grumbled

She was looking at him earnestly. "Let me do it."

His brows snapped together. "Will you stop fussing over me? You're the one who was barely sane a while ago. Just lie down and go to sleep or something!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I don't mean to fuss over you but—but won't putting bandages on be easier if two hands do it?"

And while she was at it, he really wished she'd stop making sense. With an inarticulate snarl of annoyance, he shoved the strips of cloth at her and held out his arm for her to bind his wounds, which she did with a gentle, soothing touch that felt…almost maternal. His mind veered sharply away from that thought. It's because he'd been locked up for so long. That's why being in close proximity with this girl was affecting him so. That's all.

She gave his bandages a satisfied pat and smiled. The irritation drained out of him in the face of her happiness at having done the job. "_Now_ will you lie down and rest?" he said grumpily, not quite meeting her eyes. 

"Oh, but—wouldn't you like some dinner?"

__

What? He followed her gaze to the pot and the food. She made a move toward the sack, obviously intending to _cook_ for them, for Kami's sake. He caught hold of her collar and yanked her back. "No," he stated implacably. "_I'll_ do it. The tea may have brought you back from the dead, but you're still sick and I'll be damned if I'm going to let a sick person make dinner for me." 

Properly chastened, she nodded and curled up on her side with her head pillowed on her arm. Kyo wished she'd go to sleep or something. The way her eyes followed his every movement was bugging the hell out of him, and he considered throwing his shirt over her head just to block out her disconcerting gaze. Finally, he turned to tell her to quit it, but her expression of open-mouthed wonder cut him short. "It _is_ you," she gasped. "The Ashari prince. I saw your face in a flyer."

He tensed. "What did you call me?"

"The Ashari prince. A-aren't you? You're the chieftain's adopted son. But—but they said you were dead. They said you'd been killed by Mizakan soldiers."

"Well, I'm _not_ dead," he snapped. "And I'm not a prince either. Kami, where'd you hear that crap?" Something she said struck him. "What do you mean you saw my face?"

She told him about the rising civil war in Mizaka and how the people of the Outer City had taken up the Ashari's cause as their own, about her travels through the villages, and how the Ashari had been attacking villages loyal to Mizaka, and how the people there believed that the chieftain's son was dead, not just kidnapped. Her story had more holes than a broken sieve—she didn't explain how she'd strayed so far northward and why she'd been on a caravan in the first place—but Kyo decided to let her selective reticence pass for now. 

"Mizakan soldiers, huh?" he snorted when she'd finished. He thought about the demons that had ambushed them. At least eight feet tall, with glistening red skin stretched over their skeletons and gaping open along the back where sharp, bony spikes jutted out, limbs that dragged on the ground and ended in long, curving claws, and heads that vaguely resembled rabid wolves' that had been skinned alive. He shuddered, remembering the horror and helplessness he'd felt. "Your city's soul is black enough to spawn creatures like the ones that had massacred my companions, but no, they weren't from Mizaka. If they'd even been human once, there's precious little evidence of it."

She stared at him incredulously. "Then it's not true? There really was no Mizakan treachery involved?"

The look he gave her was enough to make her shrink away from him. "Oh, there was Mizakan treachery involved," he growled. "Plenty of it." 

Her expression grew even more confused, and he was compelled to explain. "We spent more than thirty days on that ship after we were driven out of our homes," he said in a low voice. "Most of us were sick or injured, and there were too many of us for the ship's supplies. Some died on the voyage, but the others hung on, still hoping to reach the Promised Land in the old legends, where our true home supposedly lay. When our ship docked in Mizaka, we went crazy with joy, thinking we'd finally found a city that would take us in, so we could prepare ourselves for the journey to our Promised Land. Kazuma-cho, our chieftain—" he carefully avoided the word 'father' "—took some of us with him into the city to plead for asylum, and offered in exchange our services as guards. Our people breed damn good warriors," he couldn't resist adding smugly. 

"We—Kazuma-cho and his companions met with one of your city's elders. Pretty high up, the servants called him Councilman or something. He told us that Governor Takei would be willing to grant us asylum if—" his voice lowered to a hiss at the memory of that pasty-faced old man looking down his nose at them as if they were servants who'd forgotten their place "—if we abandoned all practice of magic and the worship of our heathen god. That meant turning our backs on everything that made us who we are, but Kazuma-cho agreed to the terms. We badly needed food, shelter and medicines, and Kami would've understood. We left thinking everything was settled, but three days later city guards stormed in from out of nowhere and arrested us. Our crime was performing magic, and our sentence was public execution."

The girl gasped, but Kyo assumed it was out of sympathy to his tale. "We didn't do it," he bit out, his wine-colored eyes flashing with remembered anger. "We followed the agreement to the letter, and suddenly these twice-damned liars were accusing _us_ of breaking the faith. A few resisted, and two were killed in the skirmish. The others were dragged off to prison—" the girl winced again, but Kyo didn't notice "—but the night before the execution, they were sprung out and led back to the ship so we could escape. That was the last we saw of your accursed city." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I never did find out who busted the others out of jail. We must've had a couple of friends in the city I didn't know of."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know. They never said—they just called you murderers and bandits, but they never explained what happened." She trailed off, recalling how the politicians in the Inner City swore up and down to capture the Ashari criminals, and conversely, the Outer City's outraged sympathy for the refugees who'd been treated so unfairly. "For what it's worth, a lot of people in Mizaka believe in you," she continued. "And a lot of the villages are actually friends with your people. How strange, though," she added, biting her lip. 

"What's strange?"

"Just that I know your face and where you come from, but I don't know your name. Nobody seems to know what your name is, not even in the villages where they know your people."

"You actually _asked _people for my name?" he asked, stunned.

She nodded. "Most people know you by your death, or your kidnapping or—or whatever happened to you. What _did_ happen to you, anyway?" When he glared at her, she wisely decided to continue with her original point. "You've become the rallying point for an entire rebellion. I—I just thought that you deserved to be remembered as a person instead of just a—a battle cry, and Mother always told me that names were important, and—" She flushed in embarrassment and bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I just meant to ask what your name is, that's all." 

For some reason, he could feel a blush blooming on his own face, and he turned away in annoyance. Kami, what was wrong with him, anyway? "It's Kyo," he muttered.

"Kyo—?"

"Just 'Kyo.'" 

"Kyo-san," she said slowly, as if trying the name out for size.

He glanced at her sharply. "What the hell's the 'san' for?"

"I-It's an honorific—"

"Well, drop the damned honorific. It's disgusting. I already said I'm not a prince."

"I'm sorry," she said again, then her face brightened. "How about 'Kyo-kun' then? It's a bit less formal than 'san.'"

He glowered suspiciously at her before relenting. "All right, 'Kyo-kun,' whatever makes you happy, just quit making a big deal out of my name." 

"Thank you, Kyo-kun," she said, smiling. "My name's Tohru Honda."

__

Tohru. He stared at her, matching the name to her face. A heart-shaped face, a warm smile and eyes like the ocean on a clear summer's day. He gulped when he realized what direction his thoughts were taking, and he quickly became engrossed in producing their meal. "The rice is done. Pull yourself together and sit up. This enchanted fire's useful, I'll give it that," he added before glaring over his shoulder at her. "We'll share the pot. If I hear one complaint out of you, I'll eat everything up."

They sat side by side, scooping rice up with their hands and chewing on the rather tough strips of pork. Although she was obviously starved, Tohru only managed to eat little more than half her share before she leaned back with her eyes closed, breathing evenly through her nose. Kyo eyed what was left of her dinner. "You planning on eating that? We need the pot to catch water in. I could make some more tea—oy, are you listening to me?" 

Her face suddenly went green. "E-excuse me," she gasped through a hand pressed against her mouth, before bolting out of the cave into the darkness to be noisily sick. Kyo gaped after her, then cursed roundly and followed her, getting instantly drenched in the rain. Again. He found her bent over a few feet away, still heaving up her dinner, and after a pause, he began rubbing her back in vaguely soothing circles. "Oy, oy, you better stop before you puke your guts out," he counseled. She straightened up and swayed, and his arm snaked out to catch her around the waist before she folded up. Sighing, he half-carried, half-dragged her back to the cave and lay her down on the ground. "Here, eat these to get rid of the taste," he said, popping a couple of berries into her mouth before she could protest.

"Sweetberries," she slurred, sounding absurdly happy. "I love sweetberries. He gave them to me."

Kyo, who'd been peeling her sodden dress off of her to keep her from relapsing, froze with his hands on her buttons. "'He?'"

Her eyes were drifting shut again, although the silly smile lingered on her face. "Yuki."

"Yuki." Kyo spat out the name as if it fouled his mouth. "That damned conjurer was here, wasn't he? What did he do to you? What did he say? Why didn't he—" —_kill you?_ He managed to swallow the words before they formed themselves, but he really shouldn't have bothered. The girl was already fast asleep. 

__

The answer to that is obvious, anyway, a voice in his head informed him scornfully. _Yuki didn't kill her because that's your job_. He thought about the dagger. Yuki would look like an angel of mercy to Tohru, while he, Kyo, would be her murderer. But why in all seven hells would that damned conjurer even bother to deceive this girl? What kind of game was he playing?

Another memory welled up from the tainted depths of his mind—a small, silvery-white mouse whose violet eyes glinted with surprisingly human-like contempt—and before Kyo became aware of it, his fingers had curved themselves into claws. He stared blindly at his hands as his mind struggled to deal with the abysmal possibilities opening up before him. 

__

Cursed. A bitter laugh escaped him. Why had he been so afraid to even consider it? It could explain so many things. Why he never woke up to daytime anymore. Why his head was filled with memories of the sun he didn't remember seeing rising or setting, a lake he had never laid eyes on before, and a forest he had never been to all his life. Why his body felt all wrong whenever he woke up. Why the coming dawn always brought on spasms of pain that always ended in unconsciousness. 

Something…happened to him during the daytime. Somehow, he would lose all sense of himself—his body, his mind, his senses, everything—and become something else. _Child of sorrow_. The words haunted him, filling him with a nameless terror that ate through his defenses like acid and left him as weak and helpless as a child again. What had Yuki done to him? He was cursed, as all children of sorrow were; Kyo's whole life had been defined by this curse and the utter shame and disgrace it brought upon him. And Yuki knew about it. Had he triggered Kyo's curse and released the being that had haunted Kyo's nightmares ever since he could remember?

What sort of monster did he become when daylight came?

Tohru shivered and moaned in her sleep, jolting Kyo from his grim reflections. He quickly finished undressing her, and when she lay clothed only in her thin white shift—_don't look! don't look!_—he hastily covered her up with his shirt. He frowned down at her sleeping face, wondering where exactly this girl fit in Yuki's plans. He'd let her sleep for a while, then wake her up later to get his answers, he decided. And when all this damned rain stopped, the two of them would get out of this place, and to hell with Yuki's orders. 

Almost of its own volition, his hand lifted and brushed a few strands of hair off her cheek. His gaze softened. "What kind of idiot insists on putting bandages on someone else's wounds when she's too sick to even keep her own dinner down?" he muttered, although his voice held none of its customary heat.

Then he leaned his head back against the cave, and followed her into slumber. 

Author's Excuse—er, Notes:

Oh lawd, I sincerely, sincerely apologize for the long wait for this installment. I know, it's been two weeks, and I'm sorry for making you wait that long. Er, that is, if you guys are still waiting for it… (Am feeling a Ritsu-like fit coming on.) I just had a really bad case of writer's block. I was writing the entire two weeks, but every word felt like a tooth extraction. I don't think the chapters are any good—too much mental Novocaine or something. I'm really, really sorry and to you guys who are still reading this (which makes you the absolute BEST, thank you so much), I won't let it happen again. Or die trying.

A few notes: To Saki-chan, continue with your story, "Tears of an Angel," please. And to Clymene, where would the world be without slackers like us? ^__^ (Let's just hope our bosses don't find out.)


	21. Book 2, Chapter 24

* - * - *

At the first light of dawn, even before the white mists of his transformation had dissolved completely into the chilly air, Yuki was already scampering across the shimmering surface of the lake upon the bridge of light. Only the tower's inhabitants who'd been touched by Akito's magic could cross the lake in this manner, and for once Yuki was grateful for the hated reminder of Akito's mark upon him. His eagerness to reach the clearing was matched only by his dread at what he might find when he got there. Anything could have happened during the night. The girl had been starving and ill when he'd left her alone in the forest, and Yuki knew better than to hope that her presence might have escaped Akito's detection. If she'd died during the night, or if she turned out to be merely a fantasy concocted by his crazed imagination, he would—

Gods, he didn't know _what_ he would do. 

He jumped off the bridge and scurried along the shore, sending out a mental call as he did so. Three rats burst out of the forest, chittering noisily at him. The behavior was unusual enough to make him pause. "Enemy?" he echoed, wondering if he'd misunderstood the rats. Then again, for the monsters in the forest, anything living and breathing could be considered an enemy, even members of the same species.

He hoisted himself up on one of the rats and they continued on, until Yuki noticed something on the ground. The sparse green bundle lying half-buried in the mud were leeks, the same leeks he'd helped Ritsu plant in a tiny vegetable patch on the island. What in the world was a bundle of leeks doing here? 

A dead rat lay not far from the leeks, and the two other rats promptly fell upon it and began gnawing on the flesh. Yuki's nose twitched at the smell of death, and he turned away in disgust, urging his mount forward. Strange. He didn't know of any forest creature that could slit a rat's throat as cleanly as that. Whatever did the rat in left a trail of scent that was still perceptible despite the rain. The trail led to the clearing, and fear began to hum through Yuki's body. Had Akito sent one of the tower-guardians to deal with the girl?

He leaped off his mount and wended through the rocks and grasses, only to come upon a far more disturbing sight. A dagger glinted on the ground not far from the clearing, the hawk's head carved on the hilt staring right through him. A hawk, Akito's second most-favored form. Tower-guardians didn't use daggers. Yuki's blood ran cold. Expecting the worst, he bolted to the cave and froze when he found it…empty.

He circled the cave, bewildered. The enchanted fire had gone out, although a thin line of smoke still rose from the ashes so it couldn't have been long. A sack lay beside the fire, as did a small cooking pot with a bit of rice left. Even stranger was the heap of clothing tossed to one side. Yuki recognized the girl's ragged dress, but not the shirt beside it, where the strange scent was strongest. The two scents—the girl's and the other's—intermingled on the ground. Although he was relieved to find no traces of her blood or even a tinge of fear in her scent, he wasn't sure how he felt about the entire situation. Somebody had come here during the night, somebody who'd smelt of blood and battle, who carried a dagger that had already tasted blood. He'd found the cave and the girl sheltered inside it, shared a dinner of rice and pork with her, then proceeded to strip her of her clothing and give her his shirt. The stranger stayed with her, and then, when morning came, ran out of the cave, with the girl close behind him. Yuki followed their scents into the forest when a cry came from the shadowy depths.

__

The forest! He dove into the forest and scampered through the undergrowth. He found her crouched between two tree roots, dressed only in her shift, her wide, frightened eyes riveted on the gigantic spider dangling from a cord in front of her, its eight green eyes fixed upon her with deadly intent. Green venom dripped from it mandibles as the spider lowered itself at a leisurely pace, assessing quite accurately that its prey was already too petrified to move. With an eloquent curse, Yuki shimmied up a tree and snapped off a twig, judging the leap he was going to make. Just as the spider was about to pump the girl full of venom, Yuki kicked off the branch and landed right on top of the spider's head, his weight and momentum thrusting the twig deep into one eye. Greenish fluid spurted from the wound, and the spider bucked furiously, hissing in pain, while Yuki hung on for dear life. "Run!" he yelled to the girl. "Go back to the clearing!"

"But what about you?" the girl cried, her gaze darting this way and that as she searched for the source of the voice. "Where are you?"

"I'll be fine. Just go!"

Clawed limbs flailed as the maddened spider twisted violently, trying to dislodge its tiny attacker, and Yuki went flying into a clump of roots. Dazed, he shook himself and was gratified to see the girl vanishing in the direction of the clearing. The spider charged at him, but Yuki scooted deeper among the roots, far from the reaches of the frothing mandibles. "Sorry, but you'll have to look for breakfast elsewhere," he muttered, before crawling through the roots after the girl.

When he scampered into the clearing, the girl was leaning against the back of the cave, anxiously scanning the forest, and his relief at finding her safe was almost physical. The relief soon gave way to something else. A ray of sunlight had fallen over her in a hazy stream of gold, turning her hair into a cascade of honey and chestnut and her eyes into aquamarines. She looked like a nymph, a creature of earth and air, and—_a what?_ Yuki blinked. Where did _that_ come from? He'd never been the least bit poetic, and he never understood why everyone at court felt the need to spout romantic drivel every so often. That spider must have thrown him harder than he'd thought. 

Then he suddenly realized what he'd been staring at for some time: in the sunlight, the girl's flimsy white shift became somewhat…transparent. He quickly averted his gaze. He knew mice were incapable of blushing, but the way his blood was pounding through him, his body was certainly doing its best to defy tradition.

He cleared his throat and decided to let his presence be known. "Are you all right, Miss?"

The girl started. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here."

She squinted into the woods. "Where?"

"Here." Her gaze shifted downward, and her eyes grew as large as saucers at the sight of him. "Are you all right?" he asked again. "What happened? Why did you leave the clearing?"

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. "Y-you're a—you're a—"

"Yes?" he prompted.

"You're a mouse!" she blurted.

He felt his own jaw drop at that singularly peculiar statement. "Yes, I am," he said when he recovered himself. "I was a mouse yesterday, too." She slid downward until she sat on the ground, her stunned gaze never leaving his. A sick feeling grew within Yuki. He'd expected this sort of reaction from her, but not after what happened yesterday. "Don't you remember?" he asked, unconsciously bracing himself for the moment when she recoiled from him in revulsion.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I saw—at least I _thought_ I saw—I recognize your voice, but—"

"What did you think I was?"

"A boy," she answered. Her gaze turned inward, and she didn't notice Yuki flinch. "I saw a boy, with silvery hair and kind eyes and the nicest smile." Her expression grew dreamy, and every word she spoke was like a blow to his gut. "He was so handsome. Like a prince in a story I once heard. The Prince of Snows." She focused on him again, and it took every ounce of willpower Yuki possessed to keep his own gaze steady. "You have his eyes," she said simply.

Yuki, on the other hand, had no idea what to say. He was having enough trouble digesting the fact that, for a few hours at least, the girl had seen right through his curse. She'd seen him in his true form. What sort of powers did she have? Was it the Sun Stone revealing the truth behind the enchantment? A hallucination triggered by fever? No, there had to be more to it than that. 

The Prince of Snows. He hadn't heard that title in years. The people at court called him that—a silly appellation, one he'd tolerated out of respect for his elders. Who'd have thought that something as inane as a childhood nickname would cause him so much pain someday? And that this stranger from the outside world would come to remind him of all that he had lost?

The girl bit her lip in rising mortification at his silence. "I'm so sorry, Mouse-san," she said meekly. "I didn't mean to offend you. You saved my life yesterday and today, too, and I'm grateful for that, truly I am, and—I guess I was dreaming on my feet again, and that's why—"

"'Mouse-san'?" Despite the turmoil inside him, he couldn't resist the tug of amusement. The girl was adorable when she was flustered. "You called me 'Yuki' yesterday," he said, tilting his head at her. "Why did you?"

"The prince in the story was named 'Yuki'," she replied miserably. "I'm sorry."

"I don't mind," he murmured, although the irony in his tone was lost on her. "I think I prefer 'Yuki' over 'Mouse-san,' anyway."

She stared at him, then smiled shyly. "All right…Yuki-kun."

His whiskers twitched in a smile of his own. "By the way, how do you know what the prince in your story looks like?"

"I saw a picture of him. And I dreamt of him once. "

"A dream." There was that memory again. He'd seen this girl before. She came to him, a vision of swirling dark hair and aquamarine eyes, melting out of white mists of his sanctuary before vanishing again. She was the only one who'd ever been able reach him in his all-consuming solitude. Could it be? Was the angel he'd seen really her?

He looked up at her, and only then noticed the expression on her face. She was biting her lip again and staring at him with barely suppressed emotion. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned. "Are you hurt? Is it your fever?"

"No, no, I'm fine, really," she babbled nervously. "Just, um, if I could—if you'd let me—"

It took him a few moments to figure out what it was she wanted from him, and when he did, he nearly fell over in shock. As it was, he could barely manage a nod of assent before she held out her hand, palm up, for him to climb up on. "You're so cute!" she squealed as she petted him, rubbing her cheek against his fur and stroking him from the top of his head down to his tail, making cooing noises in the back of her throat. 

At first Yuki held himself rigidly, overwhelmed by the unaccustomed affection she was lavishing upon him. As she continued to cuddle him, however, his body gradually relaxed as warm tingles coursed through him. He had no idea being held like this could feel so good. As a child, he'd rarely been shown physical affection; his title and his bearing tended to inspire admiration, not closeness. But now, sitting on this girl's hand and shivering with pleasure as her fingers ruffled his fur, he began to wonder just how much he'd missed because of misplaced pride, back in the days when he had everything. _Isn't she disgusted?_ he wondered, confused by her actions, but her eyes glowed with nothing but pure happiness at simply touching him. If anything, it only confused him more.

"What about you?" he said, pushing aside his jumbled feelings for now. "We should give you name, too. Something other than 'Miss.'" Surprise stilled her movements, and he felt a twinge of regret at that. "It's only fair," he added, somewhat lamely. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I didn't tell you my name, did I? It's Tohru Honda."

He turned on her palm and bowed, making her giggle. "I'm honored to meet you, Honda-san."

"Eh? Oh no, please, you don't have to be so formal with me. Kyo-kun said—_Kyo-kun!_" Her eyes shot wide, every trace of lightheartedness vanishing. "Kyo-kun—my friend's in the forest. He could be in danger!"

Yuki stiffened. "Kyo was here," he stated flatly. Tohru, however, seemed relieved that he knew who she was referring to. 

"Yes. He came last night and stayed with me. He was so kind. Both of you are so kind," she added before rattling off the other things Kyo had so kindly done for her. "When he woke up, he seemed to be in pain, but he wouldn't let me near him," she went on. "Then he just ran out into the forest. I tried to follow him, but the spider found me instead." She cast another worried glance at the forest. "Maybe we should go after him. Something might happen to him out there."

Yuki watched the play of emotions on her face. Her concern for the idiot cat was plain to see, and the two already seemed to share a certain level of familiarity after spending one night together. His thoughts took a darker turn as he recalled her dress lying in the cave, along with the cat's shirt. Kyo took care of her while she was sick. He'd stayed with her and fed her and made her feel better. Yuki turned away before she noticed the way his eyes had hardened. Part of him was glad that she hadn't had to endure the long night all alone after all, but another, less honorable part was annoyed at this interloper's presumption. Tohru was—

__

Tohru was what? a voice whispered mockingly. Kyo had merely done for her what Yuki could not. After all, the idiot cat wasn't a cat when he was with her, was he?

"Yuki-kun?"

"Don't worry about Kyo. The forest won't harm him as long as it's daylight," he told her, hating the uncertainty in her voice and wanting to reassure her. "In fact, I'm sure you'll see him again soon, one way or another," he added cryptically.

She blinked at that, but he was more interested in bringing her smile back than in discussing the idiot cat. He perked up when he remembered what had made her laugh yesterday. "Honda-san, may I?"

"Eh? What—?"

Before she could complete her question, he darted lightly over her arm and perched on her shoulder. She gasped, reaching up instinctively to curve her fingers around him, then laughed delightedly as his whiskers trailed over her neck. Her smile returned, but Yuki's pleasure in it was slightly dampened by concern. "Honda-san, maybe we should go back to the cave. You still feel a bit warm. You need to rest."

She nodded and stood up, but a crashing noise at the end of the clearing, followed by a piercing yowl, made them both turn. The fire-colored cat came bursting out of the forest, and froze in comic surprise at the sight of Tohru. Yuki heard her gasp, and sighed. "There he is."

"What?"

"That's Kyo," he stated baldly.

Her startled gaze flew between him and the cat. Slanted crimson eyes watched her warily, but not aggressively, as if the cat somehow recognized her, but was still unsure whether she was friend or foe. "Kyo…kun?" she croaked, and the cat's ears flicked in response. "Kyo-kun, you're a _cat_?"

Yuki shook his head. "He can't talk in this form, Honda-san."

She shot him a look. "But—"

"We're different." He knew he sounded curt, but he couldn't help it. The cat's mere presence was grating on his nerves. 

Tail high, the cat sauntered through the grasses toward Tohru, apparently deciding that she wasn't worth attacking. Then its gaze fell upon Yuki, still balanced on Tohru's shoulder, and the change in its mood was instantaneous. The cat hissed, ears pressing back against its head, its tail fluffing out to twice its size. Tohru, who'd been reaching out to the cat, pulled back in alarm, but the cat's attention was completely focused on Yuki. 

Yuki sighed again. The stupid animal was seconds away from launching itself at Tohru just to get at him. With an exasperated flick of his tail, Yuki scampered down Tohru's arm and jumped onto the rise of the cave, where he gazed down at his nemesis with the cool disdain that came naturally to members of royalty. When the cat attacked, he'd lead it into the forest and away from Tohru. Maybe the spider would be willing to accept a substitute. The thought made him smirk, which was all that was needed to drive the cat over the edge. 

Snarling, it sprang at him and Yuki readied himself to jump, but neither of them counted on Tohru's reaction. "No!" she cried, moving between them. She caught the cat in mid-leap, and outraged animal immediately began to struggle against her, spitting and clawing for all it was worth. Before Yuki could do anything more than gape, the cat gave a mighty kick and leaped out of her arms, disappearing into the forest. "Kyo-kun, come back!" she cried, making a move to chase after the wretch, but she halted when Yuki quietly spoke her name.

He stared at her, taking in the myriad scratches on her arms, including three swelling red lines from her throat to underneath her collarbone where the cat had swiped at her. Blood trickled down to her shift, and a little scarlet flower bloomed above her heart. Yuki held himself perfectly still as an icy fury unlike anything he'd ever felt before swept through him. He didn't care if the cat was feral, the stupid beast had hurt her. He'd killed before, in self-defense or when the alternative would have been far worse, but until that moment he had never felt the desire to methodically and savagely destroy another creature in every way possible. The depth of his violence frightened him.

Tohru glanced down at herself, and a small, surprised "eep" escaped her. She swayed a little, and Yuki suppressed the instinct to hunt down the cat and retaliate in kind. For now. "Breathe, Honda-san," he instructed when she went pale, and he was glad to find his voice sounded calm. "Come on. Let's go get those wounds cleaned."

He jumped off the cave and headed toward the lake, while Tohru followed him, still stammering. "But Kyo-kun—why is he—why isn't he—what's happened to him?!" 

Despite the anger still thrumming inside him, Yuki smiled. "Which do I answer first?"

But Tohru couldn't speak. She was standing ramrod straight, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Her eyes were wide and staring, her lips parted, her face white. Yuki peered up at her. She looked as if she were about to keel over in shock. "Yaori help us," she breathed.

He followed her gaze. The mists had drifted off the shimmering surface of the lake, driven away by the deepening sunlight, and the dreary vision of the island and its tower loomed clear in the distance. "The forest," she whispered, her voice sounding thin and quivery. "The lake. The tower. Just like in the story." 

"Honda-san?"

Her knees buckled underneath her so that she ended up kneeling on the ground. "It's true. Everything's true. Mother, you were right all along."

"Honda-san?"

"Yuki-kun." She turned dazed eyes on him, and to his surprise, held out her hand to him. Already half-worried about her, he jumped up on her palm and let her curl both hands around him. Her gaze returned to the tower, and he could feel her trembling as she held him close to her chest as though for comfort. "Yuki-kun, I'm here, aren't I? The place where the palace used to be."

"Yes," he said simply. 

"The one Akito destroyed two hundred years ago."

"What?!" He glanced up sharply at her, certain he had misheard her. _Two hundred years?!_ he thought incredulously, his mind in a whirl. Her almost casual mention of the hated name barely registered. How could it be that only seven years had passed in Akito's realm when two hundred years had already gone by in the outside world? "Honda-san—"

"He could still be alive," Tohru murmured distractedly, still staring at the tower. "He could be in the tower. The tower! Just like in Hatsuharu-san's dream!"

"Honda-san, I—"

"The Prince of Snows could still be alive!"

"Honda-san!" She started and blinked at him, just as he squirmed out of her grasp and jumped onto her lap. They stared at each other, reading the questions in each other's eyes. Finally, Yuki turned away, consumed by a strange notion that he had come to a turning point, almost before he even realized it, and that things would never be the same again after she was done with him. Doubt set in, making him question the wisdom of seeking something that would only cause him more frustration and pain in the end. He looked up at her again, and the confusion darkening her sea-blue eyes sent a pang through him. Why this girl, this strange, beautiful creature who knew too much and too little, who was both helpless and powerful, could have this effect on him he couldn't begin to understand, but he was suddenly, unshakably certain about one thing.

He would do anything to take away the confusion in those eyes.

"I'll answer your questions, Honda-san," he began quietly, "but before I do, tell me the story."

"The story, Yuki-kun?" she asked uncertainly.

His eyes glinted in a smile that was both wistful and wry. "Tell me about the Prince of Snows."

And so she did. 


	22. Book 2, Chapter 25

* - * - *

Everything felt strange. _She_ felt strange. Here she was, sitting on the shore of a lake that she'd believed was only a legend, recounting her mother's story to an adorable silvery-white mouse that spoke and acted like a human, while all around her were the sights the very same story had described in exacting detail. The crumbling remains of a once-grand palace. The imposing black lines of the tallest tower she'd ever seen. The jagged blue peaks of the northern mountains beyond the lake. There was a chill in the air that not even the pallid sunlight could dispel, and a silence that owed nothing to the gloom of the forest or the vast emptiness of the lake. The bleak atmosphere pressed upon her like a heavy, stifling hand, as if the memories of death and destruction had not only remained to haunt this place, they had been allowed to fester like an open sore. There was so much horror this wounded land had known…

…and still remembered.

"It was a peaceful time for the kingdom, and everyone was happy, except for one thing: the king and queen had no child. And so one day…" 

Her voice remained steady while the rest of her floundered, struggling to adjust to the shifting borders between truth and fantasy. Strange that she was still alive, she thought, that she managed to live through a demon attack, sickness and starvation in the Deadlands, the cursed forest, the Sun Stone's fury. Strange that she now found herself in a world she had never imagined still existed, let alone that she would actually see with her own eyes. Strange that, just when she'd lost every friend and companion she had in this world, she would meet new friends in this unlikeliest of places and in the most unexpected circumstances.

But strangest of all, Tohru thought as she met an unfathomable violet gaze, was Yuki himself.

A mouse! He was a mouse! She remembered her reaction when she realized what he was, and could have kicked herself for her rudeness. He'd looked so surprised, so pained, when she told him that she'd thought him human, and she felt a rush of shame at hurting him, however inadvertently. There _had_ been a momentary flash of disappointment that the breathtakingly gorgeous boy she'd seen in her fever-induced dreams—a boy she'd believed had been waiting for her to rescue him, she recalled, squirming in embarrassment—turned out to be precisely that, just a dream. But then he spoke to her, and his voice was as gentle and comforting and elegantly polite as she remembered—her dreams hadn't lied about that, at least. And he was so kind to her, patiently enduring her impulsive affections, even going out of his way to make her laugh.

A part of her though clung stubbornly to her little fantasy, reluctant to admit that she had been utterly, mortifyingly wrong about him. True, there weresome similarities between Yuki and the prince in her dreams. They both had the same graceful, unconsciously regal bearing and the same eyes. Those eyes were probably what had confused her in the first place. Such incredible eyes, the color of moonlight shining through amethysts. Eyes that made her feel oddly breathless whenever she gazed into them, even though said eyes peered out from a little pointy face with silvery whiskers and a tiny pink nose. She sighed. Kyo was right. She must have been completely delirious to mistake a mouse for a boy. 

Then again, it didn't matter what shape a person was, did it? Yuki had saved her life twice now. He'd taken care of her when she was half-crazed with fever, had stayed with her when her grief tore her apart. He was there when despair had nearly broken her, and he brought her back from the abyss and spoke words that gave her strength. During her darkest hours, he was there for her to hold on to. Somewhere between her discovery of his real form and his endearing attempts to tickle her worries away, she had ceased to care that Yuki wasn't her prince, or even human. Yuki was Yuki, and his being a mouse did not alter her impression that he was one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever met.

And she was _still_ hurting him, she thought in dismay. Yuki's gaze slid away as her story wound to its tragic conclusion, and Tohru realized too late that what was just a childhood tale for her must have been far more real to him. She trailed off and bit her lip in an agony of uncertainty.

Again, it was Yuki who sensed her distress and took pains to ease it. He smiled reassuringly at her and thanked her for the story. "Unbelievable," he murmured. "It's only a fairytale now?"

"Yes," she said. "The version I read in one of Shigure-san's history books was different, but my mother's story seems to be closer to the truth." 

He shook his head. "No, not just. That's almost exactly how it happened."

"You mean you remember_ all_ of it?" she asked, horrified. Surely after two hundred years, _some_ degree of healing forgetfulness should have already taken place. 

"Time moves much more slowly here," he explained, sounding as if the idea was just as new to him as it was to her. "So yes, I remember it." 

__

So much pain, she thought. Nothing in his expression betrayed his emotions—he was, in fact, the most self-contained being she had ever met—but something inside her seemed to resonate with him, although he himself seemed to be unaware of their connection. "Who _are_ you, Yuki-kun?" she blurted then blushed when she realized she had let her curiosity drive her to the point of rudeness again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—you don't have to explain—but then if you _wanted_ to explain, that's fine, too—" she babbled, dreadfully aware that she was only making things worse.

His furry little body had tensed up at her question, then relaxed. "It's all right, Honda-san," he said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "I was wondering how long it would to take for you to ask that." He sat beside her and stared out at the lake. "I wasn't always like this. I was born human. I grew up at the palace, and I was only a child when—all this happened. Besides me, only two others survived. Another child a year younger than I, and Akito."

"Akito," she breathed, her eyes wide. "The dark sorcerer, Akito."

"Ruler of this realm," he said expressionlessly. "Akito's power is what keeps the cursed forest alive and the barriers up. Creating this realm had weakened him, but his power grows stronger as time passes." He glanced up at her. "Very few survive in this realm, Honda-san, but _you_ have. The only explanation I can think of is that Akito allowed you to live."

She shivered. Yuki had expected her to be dead. In truth, _she_ had expected her to be dead. She didn't understand how Akito's power worked, but it certainly explained the oppressive sense of controlled devastation over this place. It was Akito's presence she was feeling. "You said two others survived," she said quickly to keep from thinking about the dark sorcerer's possible reasons for keeping her alive. "Who was the other one?"

"Are you wondering if your fairytale prince is alive?" His whiskers flicked back as he slid her an inscrutable glance. She blushed guiltily, unable to help herself. "The prince did survive," he went on, "but lives under a curse. A half-life, so to speak. You asked about the cat earlier," he said abruptly, making her blink at the change of subject. "Kyo is an anomaly, like you, Honda-san. He doesn't belong here any more than you do, but Akito captured him and put him under a similar curse, although I wonder if that hotheaded fool has figured this out yet," he added edgily.

"A curse?" An image of the cat flashed through her mind. "Then Kyo-kun—the cat—?"

He nodded. "An animal in the daytime, and a human being at night. Kyo is bound to Akito, and Akito will never set him free, no matter what that idiot cat was led to believe."

"But why?"

"Why?" He tilted his head to the sky. "Because Akito needs him. Everything in this realm exists for one purpose only: to serve Akito. Anything else is destroyed."

His voice was almost clinically detached, his eyes flat, and Tohru could feel the chill radiating from him like an invisible wall. Her surroundings seemed to fade as her mind was suddenly filled with the imprints of his emotions, flashing through the strange connection she shared with him. In her mind, the desolate years yawned before her, year after year of the most barren existence, of a life filled with constant fear and hatred and soul-shattering loneliness. Her breath lurched back into her lungs, and she slowly turned to her little companion, seeing him with different eyes. "What about you, Yuki-kun?" she whispered as her world tilted on its edge.

He flinched ever so slightly. "This is _my_ curse, Honda-san. To be a mouse with the mind of a human during the daytime."

"And at night?"

Silence. "I become a monster."

And she _knew,_ oh gods, she _knew. _Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as her heart broke for him, for everything that had been stolen from him, for everything he had had to endure for so very long. He had lost everything—his family, his future, his very identity—_everything_, and had been forced to live in this poisoned realm that had once been his home in a body that wasn't his own, never allowed even one moment to simply forget. _Oh Yuki…_

"Honda-san?"

She bit her lips together, but her sobs came out as little wet coughs anyway. _Stop crying_, she ordered herself sternly, _you're scaring him. He wouldn't like you to cry, not when he tried so hard to hide it from you, to keep it all locked inside_. Somehow, the thought only made her cry harder, and she finally gave up, crammed both fists against her eyes and bawled her heart out.

"Honda-san!" Oh gods, _he_ was worried about _her_! "Honda-san, what's wrong? Please don't cry, I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you—" 

She whipped around, scooped him up and cradled him against her chest as her body was bent forward by the force of her sobs. When she realized she was probably smothering him, she lifted him and pressed her forehead against his back as her sobs subsided enough to let her make a coherent explanation. "I'm s-sorry, it's just that—you've suffered so much, Yuki-kun, and I—it hurts to even _think_ about it, and I can't imagine how you've endured but somehow you have—" 

__

So much for coherent, a voice inside her sighed_._ She straightened when she felt him squirm, and held him out in front of her. His face was blankly astonished and his whiskers quivered as if he wanted to say something but was having trouble getting the words unstuck, but it was the roiling confusion and naked vulnerability in his eyes that shook her. She doubted he'd ever been as completely staggered in his life. "Honda-san…are you crying…for _me_?"

She nodded and wiped at her nose with one hand. A tear stood on her eyelash and dropped, and his gaze followed its downward course on her cheek as if it was the most riveting thing he'd ever seen. "I understand," he said in a strangled voice. "It's kind of you to feel sorry for a weak, useless mouse, but—"

"No!" she gasped. "It's not that. You're not weak or useless, Yuki-kun. You're _beautiful!_"

His eyes snapped up to hers. "Beautiful?"

"Beautiful," she said firmly, then giggled at the look on his face. "Mother once told me that a person's soul tends to take on the colors of the world around him. Little things, like flowers by the roadside, or the sound of children laughing, or the way the sunlight feels on your face—and the bad things too, the ugly and cruel things—you may not notice them, but your heart remembers, and your soul takes on the colors of those memories. Sometimes it happens that the bad things crowd out the good, and a person's heart become dark and cruel. But sometimes you find a soul with the strength to keep true to its own beauty, so that what you see in a person is not the colors of the world being reflected back, but the light of the soul shining through."

He stared at her.

"Ack!" she yelped as embarrassment washed over her in waves of red. "I'm sorry. That sounded so strange. All I meant to say was—was—" Her shoulders sagged as a sigh escaped her, and she smiled, letting all the respect and warm admiration she felt shine through her eyes. "Yuki-kun, don't you see? All these years you were surrounded by darkness and cruelty, but you didn't let it touch your heart. You could have let your past turn you into something hateful, but you're not. You're kind and generous and strong and—well, you saved my life, even when you didn't have to. I was just thinking a while ago how beautiful you are, and now I understand why."

"Even though I'm a mouse?" 

Her smile deepened. "It's your soul that makes you beautiful, Yuki-kun, not your body."

Their eyes met and held. Her breath caught, and warmth unfurled from the vicinity of her heart and spread outwards through her body. She was blushing again and she knew it, but if the earth had split apart at that moment, she wouldn't have been able to tear herself away from that compelling gaze. "It's funny," Yuki finally said in a husky voice that caused an odd fluttering in her stomach. "I was thinking the same thing about you, Honda-san."

"Th-thinking the same thing?" she stammered, feeling distinctly lightheaded.

"How beautiful you are."

__

Oh! Her face burst into flames, and her lips formed themselves around the startled syllable. The way he was looking at her and the gentle timbre in his voice were making her head spin. Seriously. She planted a hand on the ground to keep the world from swaying. "_Anoo_, Yuki-kun?" 

He grew instantly concerned. "Are you all right?"

"I—I think I need to lie down for a while."

"Oh!"

They both turned at the sound of the voice. Tohru stared. A pretty girl dressed in a rather worn-out maid's uniform was standing on a raft, with the pole she was using to push herself to shore still thrust into the lake. Her long, light brown hair fell past her shoulders, and her soft, brown eyes were wide with a mixture of surprise and relief and, oddly enough, guilt. "Y-you're alive!" the girl exclaimed. "He's not d-done it yet!"

"Eh?" was all Tohru could say to that inexplicable remark. 

Yuki's eyes narrowed, but Tohru's vision swam again and she couldn't stop a soft moan from slipping out. She heard Yuki speak her name, but what really got her attention was the guttural cry that cut through the silence. She blinked. The girl must have sprouted wings and flown off the raft, because she was suddenly crouched near Tohru, her entire face contracted in a ghastly wail, brown eyes burning with homicidal remorse.

"Y-y-you're swooning with hunger and it's all my fault! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so s-s-sorry!" 

Tohru tried not to wince at the auditory assault. "What? No! It's not your fault! Really!" 

"H-H-His Highness asked me t-t-to bring food hours ago but I was late! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" 

"It's all _right_, Ritsu," Yuki muttered, jumping down. 

He jerked back when the girl beat her fists on the ground. "I'm worthless! I'm worthless, a w-worthless little m-monkey! I'm sorry, sorry, sorry!" 

"No, you're not worthless! Please, stop!" Tohru moved to catch the flailing fists before one of them pounded Yuki into the ground. At her touch, the girl seemed to turn into a block of wood, and the two of them froze in that position, with Tohru holding the girl's wrists above their heads in a sort of dance, if one could dance while twisted up like licorice on the ground. The silliness of their predicament soon got the better of Tohru and she started to laugh, then laughed harder at the bug-eyed expression on the other girl's face. "I'm sorry," she chortled, releasing the girl's hands. "We just looked a bit funny then. My name is Tohru Honda."

"R-ritsu," the girl said faintly.

"I'm glad to meet you, Ritsu-san."

"'Rit-chan,' T-Tohru-oneesama," the girl corrected shyly. "'Rit-chan' is f-fine."

"'Rit-chan' then." Tohru smiled brightly, then with a sigh sank into Ritsu's startled arms. Through waves of dizziness, she could hear Yuki speaking to Ritsu, then she was helped to her feet and brought her back to the cave. Ritsu went to retrieve a sack she'd left on the raft, from which she produced a loaf of bread, a hunk of rather tough cheese and a couple of plump, red tomatoes. Despite her ravenous hunger, Tohru was almost afraid to touch the food after losing her first decent meal to nausea. But her bout of sickness last night must have purged her of the last of the tainted water of the Deadlands, because she managed to keep down most of the bread, both tomatoes, all of the cheese, the leftover rice and several sweetberries besides. Her gluttony appalled her, but Ritsu was tearfully flattered that she'd liked her baking—Tohru hadn't the heart to tell her that the bread could have been used to hammer stakes with—and Yuki seemed pleased that she'd eaten, and the food did get rid of the dizziness. They made more tea out of the flowers, and although the tea wasn't as wonderfully soothing without Kyo's enchantment, it helped bring down the slight fever she still had.

The thought of Kyo made her smile and glance upward at the orange paw peeking out over the roof of the cave. Unknown to them, Tohru and Yuki had had an audience; Ritsu told them she'd seen an orange bundle streaking back into the forest the moment she arrived. A few times during Tohru's one-sided meal, the cat had wandered around the perimeters of the cave, tail and head held high with such studied casualness that she'd wanted to laugh. He would catch sight of Yuki, hiss angrily and bound away, only to return a few minutes later as if drawn helplessly to the solace of the clearing. By his fourth appearance, Yuki had glared at him and quietly swore to kill him if he came any closer. Tohru waved her hands and babbled something placating, a little disturbed by the flash of ice in Yuki's amethyst eyes. Under ordinary circumstances, she'd have found nothing too alarming about the rivalry between a cat and a mouse—it was almost traditional, after all, although the virulence of their animosity did overstep tradition a bit. But then, the cat and the mouse in question were far from ordinary, and every instinct warned her that an open confrontation between Yuki and Kyo would be…_bad_. She was gradually getting used to a world where everything was turned upside down and nothing was what it seemed, but there were a few things she did _not_ want to find out.

The cat soon found a way to stay nearby without having to suffer his smaller adversary's glacial hostility. Ritsu confirmed it when she glanced up. "K-Kyo-sama's up there," she said as if doubting what she was seeing. "He usually _hates _b-being around you, Y-Your Highness."

Yuki's eyes darkened warningly, and Ritsu fell silent. Tohru stared at him. For some reason, Yuki and Kyo brought out the worst in each other. Tohru remembered Kyo's angry invectives against Yuki. He'd accused Yuki of being a—she furrowed her brow—a "lying son of a bitch" and a "damned conjurer," neither of which made sense to Tohru. Akito was the conjurer, not Yuki. But then, she didn't think Kyo would lie about something like that, either.

She was distracted from her thoughts by something tugging on her skirt. Ritsu was timidly holding out a brown bundle of cloth. "I—I brought you something, Tohru-oneesama. I th-thought you might want to change a bit."

Tohru took the bundle and shook it out. It was a smock similar to the one Ritsu was wearing. "Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much, Rit-chan. This is so kind of you." 

The younger girl flushed, taken aback by Tohru's heartfelt gratitude. "I-I-I'm sorry it's such an ugly dress—"

Tohru shook her head. "Oh no, of course not. It can't be any uglier than what I'm wearing now, and I _have_ been dying to take a bath. I'm probably covered in—well, never mind what I'm covered in," she said, laughing, before turning to Yuki. "Um, do you mind?" she asked shyly.

His warm gaze settled over her. "Not at all, Honda-san. We promise not to look."

"Eh?" For some reason, her eyes strayed to Ritsu, who was deeply engrossed in plucking at the loose threads on her skirt. "Ah, Rit-chan could join me if she—"

"Definitely not." Steel slid behind his voice.

Something was a bit off here. "It's all right, Yuki-kun. Rit-chan's a girl, after all."

Ritsu made an odd, spluttering noise. Yuki winced. "Ritsu's not a girl, Honda-san."

Tohru gaped at Yuki, then at Ritsu, who was peeking up at her through her lashes, somehow managing to look both innocent and guilty at the same time. "But—but—" Something went _ping_ in Tohru's mind. "I'm sorry, Rit-chan. I didn't know you were cursed, too."

"Cursed?" both Yuki and Ritsu echoed. "Ritsu's not cursed. Besides you, he's the only one here who isn't," Yuki explained. "Ritsu's just…complicated."

Ritsu nodded. "C-complicated."

Tohru's head felt as if it were spinning in complicated circles. Then she recalled some of the stories Haru and Uo-chan told her about some of the denizens of the Outer City, and her confusion cleared. "Oh, I see. Like the Three-Petaled Flower Ladies," she said, feeling inordinately proud of herself. She might have spent her life tucked in some obscure corner of Mizaka, but she was still a city girl at heart. Haru and Uo-chan would have been so proud of her.

Her heart twisted. She missed them so much. 

She realized that both Yuki and Ritsu were staring at her, and she rushed to explain. "They were men who dressed as women, and very lovely and graceful women, too. Like fairy queens, Hatsuharu-san and Uo-chan told me. They lived mostly in the Coral District of the Outer City. I've never been there myself, but I'm sure it's a nice place." _As much as anything could be termed "nice" in the Outer City_. When no reaction was forthcoming from her audience of two—three, counting Kyo, who was looking at her as if she'd just sprouted another head on her shoulders—she blushed and mumbled a "pardon me" before fleeing to the lake for her much-needed bath. 

When she came back, wringing the water out of her hair and dressed in Ritsu's smock that hung a little too loosely around her, she found the three…boys still frozen in the same positions she had left them, their eyes following her every movement. Hiding a smile, she sat down beside Yuki and waited.

"The Outer City?" said Yuki.

"Th-Three-Petaled Flower L-Ladies?" said Ritsu.

"Mrowr?" said Kyo.

Tohru couldn't help it. She laughed. "I really don't know where to begin. There's so much to tell. Two hundred years, you know."

"The beginning would be a good place to start, Honda-san," Yuki deadpanned, and she could tell he too was trying not to laugh. 

She met his gaze, and she and Yuki shared a smile. Then she tucked her knees underneath her chin and took a deep breath. 

The alien sound soon filtered through the forest and drifted across the lake, filling the remaining hours before twilight with its own unique magic: the sound of happy chatter and bright, golden laughter. 

And deep beneath the bowels of the earth, darkness stilled its eternal raging and rumbled in savage satisfaction. 

__

Soon. Very soon.

Author's Notes:

One week, and this is all I have to show for it. Sigh. 

Thanks, thanks, thanks again, Clymene (you don't know how much your words comfort me ^_^), Saki-chan, PikaChan, Merei-chan, Anee, Alexandra-Kyoko, LovethatHimura and everyone for reading and reviewing. And thanks, Quantum. I saw what you meant (I think). Yeesh, how embarrassing, it sounded like something straight out of a cheezy melodrama. I tried fixing it up (to everyone else, it's Chapter 22), but I don't know if I made a dent in it. And to CB, thanks for pointing out that slip-up. I accidentally deleted some parts of a sentence that caused the confusion. (Excuses, excuses.) I fixed it up, too (Chapter 23), so I hope it helps. I'll have to do a more thorough clean-up later.

Also, I don't have the episode where Ritsu appears, so I can't remember how exactly he calls Tohru. I just made a wild guess. I hope I'm not too far off the mark.

Um, I did say the fic is a Yukiru, right?

Again, thank you so very much for reading! You guys make my week(s). ^___^


	23. Book 2, Chapter 26

* - * - *

She stumbled upon the dagger quite by accident. 

Dusk had settled in, and the light, cheerful atmosphere of the past hours faded into nothingness along with the last of the sunlight. Tohru could feel a cold dread begin to spread to her limbs as the darkness deepened. Darkness in this realm seemed so—so _absolute_ somehow. As if it was only at its whim that daylight intruded at all, and it might just decide to stay around for good.

Ritsu had left long before twilight, and the drawn, frightened look on his face was something Tohru hoped she would never have to see on anyone ever again. Dread trailed icy fingers down her spine. The thought of returning to the tower had all but drained away Ritsu's spirit, and Tohru found her once-vague fear of Akito swiftly taking on form.

But if Ritsu's terrified subservience had disturbed her, Yuki's reaction to the creeping darkness nearly caused her physical pain. All light and warmth died inside him, leaving his beautiful violet eyes empty and bleak. Despair and a sense of defeat so complete it brought tears to her eyes wrapped around the small, silvery-white form like a shroud. She'd come so close to begging him to stay with her again, but she hadn't wanted to hurt him that way, to tear him up inside even more. He had been desperate to leave; his fear for her, for what might happen if he remained any longer, had overridden his desire to stay.

__

"And at night?"

"I become a monster."

She sat alone in the darkening cave, feeling small and lonely and bereft. She rubbed her palms together absently. His fur had felt so soft against her skin. His warmth and solidity comforted her, reminding her of how she used fiddle with her charm necklace whenever she felt troubled. His voice lingered in her mind, a gentle, even tenor that could turn as hard as frozen steel in one moment and as warm as a summer's day the next. He was cursed with a form that was capable of only a limited range of expressions, but his eyes more than made up for it. There were layers and layers behind those violet depths, inviting her to lose herself in them, and she wanted to know more and more about him, to find out how he felt and what he was like behind those barriers. She smiled a little. Given the wall of cool composure he'd erect around him at the slightest attempt to get him to open up, she didn't think he'd appreciate finding out how much his eyes betrayed him to her. _But that's all right_, she thought resolutely. With all the strength inside her, she would protect those precious glimpses into his inner world that he offered, whether intentionally or not. She would protect _him_. 

__

Could she protect him from Akito?

She shivered and huddled into a tighter ball. She wished they'd had the presence of mind to build another fire before darkness set in. They had gathered enough firewood from the fringes of the clearing, but with the descending darkness driving all other thought from her companions' minds, they never got around to actually starting a fire, and Tohru didn't know the first thing about starting a fire with no matches. After a brief, internal debate and much chewing on her lip, she raised a hand and waved it over the small pile of sticks the way she had once seen a magician wave a hand over a hat before producing a rabbit. Nothing happened.

She tried again, this time muttering underneath her breath: "I order you to make fire…um, please."

Not even a single blue spark. The pile of sticks remained distinctly unburned. She groaned, partly in frustration and partly in relief. Once again, the Sun Stone refused to cooperate. Ever since it had come into her life, it was either trying to kill her with its zeal or stubbornly ignoring her commands. In fact, the only time she'd ever gotten the Sun Stone to work in a non-lethal manner was when Yuki was with her. The whisper of a thought seemed to tickle her awareness, but faded away before she could examine it. She sighed ruefully. She supposed she ought to be glad the Sun Stone wasn't turning her into a bonfire again and content herself with that. 

She had food, at least. Yuki and Ritsu had seen to that. And with the lake nearby, she wouldn't be running out of water anytime soon. She recalled the gnawing hunger and desperate thirst that were their constant companions during their trek through the Deadlands, and shuddered. She didn't think she'd ever be able to look at a single chunk of bread and a cup of water without feeling heartrendingly grateful from now on. 

Picking up the cooking pot, she pushed herself up and headed toward the lake to fetch some water. She had nearly reached the shore before she slowed to a stand-still, gazing across the lake with awe and dread. Beneath a swirling mass of storm clouds, the tower's looming form thrust up from the surface of the lake, blacker than the night. Green-tinged lightning forked down and struck at the tower as if summoned by an unseen force, sinking into the island like cracks on a broken mirror before vanishing into the tower's ever-deepening darkness. Tohru stared at the tower, feeling her skin prickle and grow cold as the darkness seemed to creep over the lake and wrap around her. She could _feel_ him in the darkness; his power, his presence, the very brush of his thought against her mind made her want to shrink into herself and whimper in fear. It pleased him, she knew. He could taste her fear in the very air she breathed.

Akito. She could feel the dark sorcerer's aura everywhere. For some reason, the chilling presence formed an image behind her eyes: a silver-haired boy dressed all in white, standing at a window and gazing across the lake in her direction, ice-gray eyes watchful and knowing, lips parted in a small smile. Akito, who ruled this realm and everything in it. Akito, who had brought her here. Akito, who in the end would decide whether they all lived or died.

__

No, a voice inside her whispered. _No, something's wrong. This is all wrong._

The thought was jarring enough to break her trance, and she tore her gaze away from the tower, taking an involuntary step back. Her foot landed on something that made a faint clinking noise. Puzzled, she glanced down and picked up the object lying on the ground. It was a long, thin dagger with a blade that ended in a curved point and hilt of black steel shaped like a hawk's head. The blade gleamed preternaturally bright against the darkness and felt icy cold to the touch. She held it gingerly with both hands, frowning, and wondered if she'd imagined the faint shadowy streaks that crisscrossed over the gleaming whiteness of the blade.

"How strange," she muttered out loud. "How come I didn't see this befo—_ite!_"

She jerked reflexively. A gash appeared on her left palm, and blood began to trickle down her arm. "Oh no," she moaned faintly at the sight of the blood, then moaned again when the pain hit her. She stared suspiciously at the dagger in her right hand, wondering how it could have slipped from her grasp like that. The dagger merely burned brighter, as if mocking her. She willed her hand to open and let the nasty thing fall to the ground, but her right hand seemed to have gone numb, just as the pain in her left hand grew piercingly cold, as if a shard of ice instead of a blade had cut her. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around her left hand, mingling with her blood, and she cradled her hand against her chest. The chill spread upward until her eyes seemed to grow dim.

__

Serves you right.

She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

__

Why did you come here? What did you think you could do?

She fell to her knees, feeling her blood seeping through the cloth of her dress.

__

You have no power here. You are nothing. 

No, she answered, fighting against the chill. _No, I won't accept it. I _won't_._

You deserve to die.

She gritted her teeth. _You can't keep him imprisoned here forever. I'll save him. Somehow, I'll save him and Kyo-kun and Rit-chan as well. I swear it._

Save them? You will destroy them. And they will destroy you.

No.

You will see. 

"Tohru!"

Something cracked sharply against her right hand, knocking the dagger out of her grasp. A pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up, and she found herself blinking into Kyo's white, furious face. "Kyo-kun?" she whispered. 

"Idiot!" he shouted. "Don't you ever touch that dagger again!" 

He picked up the dagger, and with a grunt flung it into the lake as far as he could. There was a flash of white, and the dagger vanished with a splash. He spun around to face her, the anger blazing from his crimson eyes dispelling the last of the chill. "What the hell did you think you were doing? You don't go around playing with strange knives, you idiot! Don't you have the sense you were born with?"

"I'm sorry," she said meekly.

"_Now_ you're sorry, you—what's wrong with your hand?"

He was staring hard at her left hand, and she flushed in embarrassment. "I, um—the dagger slipped," she said, wincing at the lameness of her explanation.

Kyo gave her another scorching glare, then his hand closed around her arm and pulled her hand away from her chest. At her hiss of pain, he gentled his hold, but the sight of the bloody gash made him look as if he sorely wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.

"_E-etoo_, it's not that deep, I think," she said hastily. "And it doesn't hurt that much anymore, really."

"What're you doing out here, anyway?"

"I was going to get water." She pointed at the cooking pot, which had fallen at her feet. "But I got, um, distracted."

He followed her gaze toward the tower, and his face darkened. "The last thing I want right now," he said tightly, "is a reminder of that damned conjurer. Go back to the cave. I'll get the water, then we'll see to that wound."

She nodded and turned, then paused. "Kyo-kun?" When he glanced back at her, she gave him a sunny smile. "I'm really glad you're back."

He scowled. "Just go, will you?"

When he returned to the cave he found her kneeling in front of the firewood rubbing two sticks together, although her wound made her movements slow and clumsy. She smiled again when he sat down. "Thank you, Kyo-kun. _Anoo_, I've set out some bread and cheese for dinner, and a few sweetberries for dessert. I'm sorry we don't have any more salted pork. Rit-chan said we'd eaten the last yesterday, although I wonder where he'd gotten the salted pork in the first place. Yuki-kun said they keep a gar—"

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, interrupting her stream of chatter.

She glanced down at the sticks in her hands. "I, um, I'm making fire."

"Why don't you just summon the power in this clearing to make fire? Isn't that what you did last night?"

"'The power in this clearing'?" she echoed, confused. "Oh, you mean the Sun Stone. I tried but it didn't work. I can't control it, you see."

He frowned at the unfamiliar words, then shook his head as if dismissing them. "Whatever. That's not how you make fire, anyway."

Her hands stilled their motions. "It's not?"

"Oh for Kami's sake," he muttered disgustedly as he stood up again. He came back with a handful of dried grass and two stones that made sparks when he struck them together. Minutes later, they had a healthy blaze going. He nodded at the fire in satisfaction before turning to her. "Now give me your ha—what're you looking like that for?"

Tohru's eyes were bright with admiration. "Kyo-kun, that was amazing!" 

"Huh?"

"I've never seen anyone start a fire as quickly as you did," she exclaimed. "You knew exactly what to do. I'm impressed!"

Kyo gave her an incredulous look. "I've been training in the fighting arts ever since I was a child," he explained gruffly as he cut more strips of cloth from her much-abused shift, which had been draped over the cave. "Much of the training meant having to camp out in the wilderness with my master, so of course I'd had to learn something as basic as starting a fire. Give me your hand." He inspected her wound, then cradled her hand in his left and placed his right hand over hers, palm to palm, not close enough to touch but enough for her to feel the heat radiating from him. A look of concentration passed over his face, and as Tohru watched in amazement, his hand glowed with a faint reddish-gold light for a moment, and a soothing warmth seeped through her skin and spread through her hand, making the flesh around her wound tingle a little. Only then did he wrap the makeshift bandage around her hand. 

Tohru blinked at her hand, then up at him. "Kyo-kun, what—?"

He shrugged. "I speeded up the healing process a bit." He noticed the expression on her face, and instantly bristled. "It's _not_ magic, all right? I already said it's all done by prayers. There's nothing magical about a bunch of prayers and rituals."

"But—but to know how to heal someone, to make someone feel better, how wonderful that must be," she insisted. "You could help so many people with a gift like yours, Kyo-kun."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you people keep seeing magic everywhere. Healing has nothing to do with sorcery. If I seem to know stuff it's because I used to hang around an old healer in our village so I picked up a few things. But almost anyone can heal others to a certain degree. I bet even _you_ can."

"Really?" she said, her eyes widening. "Do you really think I can, Kyo-kun? Would you show me?"

He stared at her then nodded, his lips twisting upward in a crooked smile. The sight of the smile, the first she'd seen on his perpetually angry-looking face, made her suck in a breath in wonder. _Why, he hides his smile underneath_, she thought, nearly missing what he said next. "Sure. Here, I'll show you how to do a simple technique."

For the next hour or so, he proceeded to show her how to breathe in the right way, then taught her a few words to focus her concentration on the energies within and around her. "You don't have to believe in Kami but it helps if you do," he explained as he munched on a couple of sweetberries. "Think of it this way. Whoever created the earth used a near infinite amount of power to do so, and that same power is locked inside every stone and grain of sand. In fact, a priestess in our village used to say that faith and proper prayer could call forth the energies even in the empty air or deep within the earth. That's what most rituals do, anyway, invoke power. And not just stones and sand. All living creatures, including humans, contain the same forces. More than that, we control it through our wills and emotions, like water in a glass, although most of us aren't aware of it. Sometimes there's more, sometimes there's less, but too much or too little results in sickness. As a healer, you need to sense the balance of energies, then tweak that balance a bit."

It took some convincing to get her to practice on him. The first few times yielded nothing. They sat facing each other, with Tohru's hands outstretched and held palm-downward less than an inch from Kyo's. She screwed her eyes shut, counted her breaths as instructed, and chanted the words inside her head, pleading with the energies to respond to her. All her efforts resulted in nothing but a sigh from Kyo and a growing numbness in her arms. "You're trying too hard," he said at one point. "Remember the words. You're supposed to _want_ to heal; just calling on the power is useless if you can't focus it."

"Yes, _sensei_," she said, earning another crooked smile from Kyo. She closed her eyes again, thinking about what she wanted. _I want to help_, came the thought. _I want for people to be happy, for them to be safe_. An image of a silvery-white, amethyst-eyed mouse drifted through her mind, and she smiled. _Yuki-kun_. The image was followed by that of a crotchety, red-haired boy who was also a crotchety, red-orange cat, and a pretty girl who was actually the first kitchen-boy she'd ever met. _I want them to be safe. _The memory of the chilling darkness returned—of the voice whispering in her mind, full of malice and contempt. Of the vision of a handsome, silver-haired boy gazing out from a window of the tower. Her pulse jumped. _I want Yuki-kun and Kyo-kun and Rit-chan to be safe. I want them to live and be free. You can't keep them imprisoned here forever._

Please, Akito-san. Let them go.

"Oy! Snap out of it!"

Her eyes flew open and she instantly pulled her hands back. Kyo had also withdrawn his hands, and were rubbing them together, eyeing her bemusedly. "I'm sorry," she blurted, bowing her head. "I don't think I can do this after all. You're a wonderful teacher, Kyo-kun, but I—"

"You glowed pink," he said bluntly. "Waves of pink, like rose petals. I felt your power spread all around us, surrounding the entire cave. It felt warm and—and nice," he added, turning away to hide his blush. "I don't even want to know what you were thinking," he grumbled.

She gaped at him. "Eh? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Instead of replying, he pointed wordlessly at a spot beside him, where he'd carelessly flicked the sweetberry seeds some time ago. Already, a pale green shoot was poking its way out of the earth and putting forth a tiny pair of leaves. Tohru stared at the plant in shock. "I—I did that?" 

Kyo nodded.

"Me?" she squeaked.

"Yeah." He gave her a piercing look. "_How_ did you do it?"

"I don't know," she answered, still trying to grasp the idea that she'd actually done magic. _Or not magic_, she added hastily, recalling her companion's vehemence on the subject. "I just did what you told me to. I didn't even feel anything."

He shrugged again. "Yeah, well, you're stronger than you think, is all I can say."

"But I can't do magic," she said, bewildered. "I've never done any magic until—oh! It must be the Sun Stone." She nodded decisively. Yes, that made a lot more sense. The Sun Stone was the only thing magical about her. _But you know it isn't_, a voice whispered, which she tried to ignore.

"The what?"

"The Sun Stone. It's a magical stone that I, um, carry around with me," she explained, blushing. "Its magic was the one I used to create the fire last night." There it was again, the strange, vague thought just dancing at the edge of her consciousness, but before she could track it down she was distracted by Kyo shaking his head.

"No, it's not," he told her. "The magic I felt around that weird blue fire felt different. It felt like some of that exotic mind-stuff. Real, honest-to-Kami sorcery. And it isn't just coming from your magic stone. It's all around us. This entire clearing is soaked in it."

Tohru blinked.

"I've been trying to figure out why this clearing feels so different from the rest of the forest," he went on. "Its energies are different, more like your magic stone than the rest of this godforsaken place. That's why none of those—those things in the forest dare come in here. That's why this clearing feels…safe…" He tensed for a moment, his gaze turning distant as if listening to something only he could hear, then he growled and shook his head. "If I didn't know better, I'd have thought that your magic stone actually came from this place," he added, "and that this clearing was created when magic leaked out of that stone." He paused. "Oy, I want to see it." 

"Eh?!" Tohru's eyes nearly fell out of her head. "Y-you want to see the Sun Stone?"

He gave her a strange look. "Yeah. You have it, don't you?"

She moved her head jerkily, on the verge of panicking. "_A-anoo_, Kyo-kun, ah, you see—"

"For Kami's sake, I'm not going to steal it," he said exasperatedly. "I just want to see it. From what I can tell, that stone has some damn powerful sorcery inside it. I want to check it out." His brows drew together. "What's the matter with you, anyway?"

Tohru felt as if every drop of her blood had gone rushing to her head. "Ah, ah—" she stammered, unable to think of a good reason for refusing to let him see it. He continued to glare at her until she gave up with a sigh and a scarlet blush. _There's no harm in showing him, is there?_ she decided, before lowering her head and undoing the top buttons of the kitchen-maid smock. 

This time, it was Kyo who panicked. "Oy, w-w-what the hell're you doing?!" he spluttered, backing away from her and turning as red as she undoubtedly was. "It's the stone I want to see, not—what the—?"

The firelight fell upon her chest as she parted the folds of cloth to show him the outline of the Sun Stone. She gave him an apologetic, embarrassed shrug. "It's right here inside me." 

Kyo's mouth hung open as he stared at the blue lines between her breasts. "Shit," he declared. "I've never seen anything like that before." His gaze drifted upward, and his eyes suddenly narrowed. "How did you get those?" he asked in a low voice, pointing at the three parallel lines stretching from her throat to her collarbone.

She glanced down, feeling uneasy. "Oh, um, that was my fault, really."

He grabbed her, shaking her a little, and she was taken aback by the anger and terror warring in his face. "I did it, didn't I?" he rasped, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "I remember…Kami, I remember…"

"I-It's all right, Kyo-kun," she told him, alarmed by the storm raging within him. "You didn't know what you were doing."

He didn't seem to hear her. "I—I was furious. I wanted to kill…but you tried to stop me. And I hurt you. _I hurt you_." He released her so suddenly she nearly fell against the cave wall. He shot to his feet, gazing at her with indescribable pain in his crimson eyes. "He did it," he whispered. "The curse—" He abruptly turned away. Quick as a flash, she leaped up and practically tackled him before he could flee into the forest. "Kyo-kun!" she cried, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him back. "Kyo-kun, please. Stay in the clearing. Please."

He stiffened at her touch. "Stay away from me," he said in an odd, dull voice. "I'm dangerous. I'll only hurt you again, or worse."

"But it's all right, really!" she protested desperately. "You were a cat then, and you only did what comes naturally to a cat. It's my fault for catching you when you were so obviously angry."

He spun around to face her. "A cat? A _cat?!_"

"Yes!" She nodded, relieved that he had finally stopped looking as if he were about to bolt. "Yes, a cat. You were a cute, orange cat all day, and you stayed with me and Yuki-kun and Rit-chan. It's your curse, Kyo-kun. A cat during the daytime, and a human being at night. Yuki-kun warned me that you might not remember, but—but I guess you do now—"

"_Yuki!_" The name emerged from his lips in a virulent hiss. "That shitty conjurer! What was he doing here?! And who the hell is Rit-chan?!"

She shook her head frantically. "No, no, please, Kyo-kun, it's not what you think! Yuki-kun isn't Akito. Yuki-kun is a mouse."

Kyo stared at her as if she'd just announced her intention to grow roots and sprout leaves. "A mouse," he echoed flatly. "I'm a cat and he's a mouse."

She nodded again. "A silvery-white mouse with the most beautiful violet eyes you've ever seen. He's so kind and sweet and giving, Kyo-kun, just like you. And like you, he's cursed, too. Well, Rit-chan isn't cursed, but he's—um, maybe I'd better explain." She tugged him back to the cave and sat him down, and once again she found herself retelling her mother's story about the Prince of Snows, adding the details she'd learned from Yuki later. Somewhat to her surprise, Kyo remained silent for the most part, aside from the occasional snort and muttered "hah!" when she spoke about the lost Prince Yuki. But he listened carefully when she told him about Akito, frowning thoughtfully into the darkness. When she asked him what he was thinking, he glowered at her to indicate that she should keep talking, and so she did.

"I—I was thinking," she began hesitantly when she'd finished her tale. "About Yuki-kun, I mean. I really thought it was him, the prince I saw in my dreams. I made a fool of myself about that, and I hurt him, too." She ducked her head, remembering the look in Yuki's eyes. "But something tells me I was right, that Yuki-kun _is_ the long-lost prince that Akito had captured and put a curse upon. The way he acts is exactly the way a prince would act. Even Rit-chan called him 'Your Highness.' I really believe it's him, Kyo-kun," she said, turning earnest eyes on her companion. "I really believe that Yuki the mouse and Yuki the prince are one and the same. Only—only something feels terribly wrong about it—"

__

I become a monster.

"—as if something important is missing, and I—"

__

You will destroy them. And they will destroy you.

"—I don't understand what it could be." Her voice died away and she bit her lip, unsure about Kyo's reaction to what she'd said. She couldn't help noticing that he'd grown stiffer and stiffer as she spoke about Yuki, his hands curling into fists and his jaw tightening until she could almost hear his teeth grinding together. She was wondering what she could do to ease his tension when Kyo himself broke his silence.

"Are you done?" he asked curtly.

"Yes," she murmured.

"Then let me tell you about the Yuki I know." He turned to her then, his crimson gaze intense, his words slow and deliberate. "He's handsome, all right, if you can call a block of ice handsome. Every inch a prince, but if you open him up, you'll find nothing but corruption. His eyes are cold, his smile is cruel, and his power over lightning and darkness is strong. He commands an army of demons he calls the tower-guardians, but they hide in shadow and you won't see them until they've already gutted you. He has no respect for life, only a taste for power. I've seen him nearly kill this Ritsu so many times; the only reason he's still alive is because Yuki finds abject spinelessness amusing. He thinks nothing about destroying and manipulating everything he comes into contact with. This place, this forest—it's like a disease upon the earth, and Yuki is its source. You tell me that this is all the dark sorcerer Akito's work. If that's true, then all I can say is that your Prince of Snows is long gone. Yuki and Akito are one."

Tohru had grown steadily paler throughout Kyo's speech. "No," she finally whispered. "It can't be. I saw him. In my dreams, and—and Hatsuharu-san did, too. He's here, Kyo-kun, I know it."

__

I become a monster.

She gasped. "No. I won't accept it."

__

What did you think you could do?

Kyo rolled his eyes. "He's gone, all right? And on the off-chance that you're right, then the only thing left of this prince of yours is that mouse. That damned annoying mouse who keeps running away from a fight," he added, his lip curling in a snarl, before turning to her, pinning her with a sharp stare. "Don't trust him. Be friends with the mouse if you have to, but don't trust him any further than that. I don't know what game Yuki or Akito or whoever is playing, but you can be sure it won't be good. He'll kill you the minute you lower your guard."

She shook her head. "No, I don't believe it. Yuki-kun saved my life. He's my friend, Kyo-kun. You both are."

"Then don't trust me, either!" he snapped, then sucked in a breath and thrust a hand through his hair. "Listen to me. That damned mouse said it himself: Akito's keeping you alive for a reason. He wants something from you, and you're a fool if you haven't figured out what it is yet."

She stared at him.

"It's that thing inside your chest, you idiot," he all but growled. "That Sun Stone's sorcery must be powerful stuff if can hold back even this forest, and I can bet that's what he's been slavering after. Fucking coward. And he sent _me_ to—"

"Kyo-kun?"

"Don't give it to him, do you hear? I don't know much about sorcery, but magical objects don't just merge with living creatures for no reason at all. Your life is bound to that Stone. Don't give it to him, no matter what. Not even if he begs for it." 

The thought that had been playing at the fringes of her mind suddenly made itself heard. "But it's his, Kyo-kun," she said wonderingly. "I remember now. Yuki-kun could control it. He was the one who created the fire, not me. The Sun Stone obeys him." _This stone belonged to the last king, Senmaru_. Shigure's words drifted back into memory. _It was believed that the Sun Stone would always find its way back to its rightful master._ "The Sun Stone belongs to Yuki-kun," she breathed.

"All the more reason you shouldn't give it to him," Kyo yelled, throwing up his hands. "For Kami's sake, don't you get it? For half the time, at least, Yuki _is_ Akito. You give it to him, and you might as well gift-wrap it for Akito. If you have to give it away, give it to someone who'll use it for good, not for evil."

__

The stone isn't meant for me, Shigure had said, once upon a time. _It belongs to Ha-san, and if anyone knows how to get the stone out from Tohru's body and use it, it'd be him_. "Lord Hatori…san," Tohru mumbled, lost in thought. The Duke of Ryuukama, who was fighting a losing battle against hordes of demons, who was searching desperately for a cure for his daughter. _Kisa-san!_ Memories tumbled through Tohru's mind. She'd been journeying to Ryuukama to help poor Kisa, but disaster had struck, leading her into the cursed forest—and to Yuki and Kyo. She wanted to save them, to set Yuki and Kyo and Ritsu free, but she couldn't forget that Kisa was still waiting for her, and that she was carrying a magical object that could mean survival for so many of the Duke's subjects. _Save my city_, the knight Touma had asked of her. He'd given his life for her so she could carry out her promise and help save the city he loved. She wouldn't, shouldn't forget.

__

But…Yuki-kun…

"You've got to get away from here. Before anything else happens to you." Her head snapped toward Kyo, wondering for a moment if he'd somehow read her mind. "Find a way to get out of this forest," he went on, his face deadly serious. "Use the Sun Stone if you have to, just get as far away from this place as you can."

She gazed at him in astonishment. Kyo's usual scowl was laced with worry, and it struck Tohru then how similar Kyo and Yuki really were. Both hid their deepest thoughts and emotions behind barriers—cold courtesy in Yuki's case, and constant anger in Kyo's—but neither of them could quite conceal how much they cared for other people. They had both suffered terribly, even now as Akito's prisoners, never sure which direction the dark sorcerer's will would turn, but somehow they both managed to hold on to the essential goodness in their hearts. They seemed to hate each other so much, but she realized that they hated themselves even more, even the parts of them they could see reflected in each other. Tears stung Tohru's eyes. _Mother, why can't they see?_ she wondered silently. _Why can't they see how strong they really are?_

"Not tonight, though." With a jolt, she realized that Kyo was still speaking. "Taking on the forest at night would be suicide. You stand a better chance of escaping with daylight to guide you."

"But—but what about you, Kyo-kun? What about your curse?"

Kyo flinched. "Don't be a fucking idiot," he said sharply. "I can take care of myself. Just get the hell away from here. The sooner you leave, the simpler everything will be for the rest of us."

His words were meant to hurt, but she knew him well enough now to understand what he was trying to say. _Forget about me_, his words meant. _Just get away if you can_. He was protecting her, just as surely as Yuki protected her from the giant spider. A teardrop trickled down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away, but not before Kyo had seen it.

He pulled back, the mask of horror on his face nearly making her laugh. "Oy! S-stop crying! What's wrong with you? Oy!"

"Oh, Kyo-kun," she sighed, then smiled warmly at him. 

__

The important thing is to choose to live.

On impulse, she reached out and took his hand, wrapping it in hers. "Thank you, Kyo-kun. Thank you for being such a good friend. I know you're only trying to protect me, but I won't leave here without you. When I do, I'll take you and Yuki-kun and Rit-chan with me. We'll all leave this place together. We can go to Ryuukama, where we'll be safe. Nobody has the right to keep you imprisoned, _nobody_."

"You—I—" Kyo stuttered, choking on the blush surging up his neck.

She smiled again. "Mother once told me that the lives we are living have a purpose. I won't leave anyone behind, not anymore. We'll all leave together and be free, you'll see."

He stared at her for a long, stunned moment, crimson eyes wide underneath the red fringe of his bangs. Then he turned away, snatching his hand out of her grasp. "Idiot," he said again, without any heat. "And here I thought nobody could out-stubborn Kagura."

"Kagura?"

He waved a hand impatiently, then huffed out a breath. "Well?" he finally said, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "You going to practice those healing techniques or not?"

She blinked, then giggled. "Yes, _sensei_!" 

He shook his head at her, but the little crooked smile had returned, and it stayed with him for the rest of the night. And it seemed to Tohru, for the second night that Kyo stayed with her in that little cave in the strange little clearing, that the darkness felt a little less dark than before. 

------------------- 

Author's Notes:

I'm not dead! Don't kill me! Please! 

I know I owe you guys a huge apology for the centuries-long hiatus. Bizarre stuff just happened in the past months since the last update, and I sort of lost my train of thought. And it was unbelievably hard trying to find it again. I'm really, really, **REALLY** sorry, and if you guys are still waiting for the update, well, here it is. No pompous promises, this time, but I think I've gotten my groove back somewhat, although this last chapter doesn't quite ring as true as the previous ones, does it?

Sigh. Anyway, like before, reviews are more than welcome. Er, just please don't kill me.


	24. Book 2, Chapter 27 & 28

* - * - *

Wan sunlight greeted her when she woke up the next day. She pushed herself up onto her elbow and glanced at the empty spot where Kyo had slept. He was gone, of course, but this time, she understood why he left. She raised her eyes to the gradually lightening sky, already tinged with pink and bright gold. Yuki had told her that the curse was triggered the moment the sun's rays spilled over the horizon, and she wondered at the kind of power it took to change a being's form and nature into that of another with the same ease and constancy as the passage of night and day. She had to admit, she was also curious about the transformation, but neither Yuki nor Kyo would allow her anywhere near them when the transformation occurred. Her conscience ordered her to heed them in this, that it was above all their fear for her safety that drove them to hide their transformations from her, but—but still. She really wanted to know.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and her gaze fell upon the sweetberry sapling proudly displaying its two tiny leaves to the world. She eyed it with some skepticism. All night long, Kyo had made her practice summoning energies, even lining up a bunch of sweetberry seeds so she could use her supposed magic to make them grow, but nothing she did could bring back the surge of power he'd felt in her that first time. She was still convinced it had been the Sun Stone's doing, and in the end, even Kyo had to give up in the face of her persistent lack of magic and had had to yell at her again to get her to stop apologizing for disappointing her "_sensei_."

She smiled at the memory. She didn't understand how it happened, but in the short span of time that she'd known him, Kyo had become as dear to her as Shigure and Haru and Momiji had been. As if she'd finally found the brother she hadn't even known she'd lost. It was almost alarming, really, how quickly he and Yuki had come to mean so much to her. She turned toward the sunrise again, and her smile brightened. Dawn might mean having to do without Kyo's human companionship, but dawn also brought someone else back to her. With a burst of energy, she rose and headed toward the lake, coming to stand at the shore. The mists had begun their stately sojourn from the lake to the forest, swirling gracefully past her in streams of tingling coolness, and Tohru threw her head back and laughed in delight, wondering if this was what it felt like to fly right through a cloud. A flash of silver caught her eye, and she turned.

Yuki stood on the shore not far away, a small white figure glowing silver against the grayness surrounding him, his head tilted upward and his amethyst eyes watching her with a strange, soft light. She opened her mouth to greet him but their gazes caught and held, and her words became entangled with her next breath. Her heart skipped a beat and a slow, melting warmth filled her, a sweet rapture she had never felt before. It confused her, this feeling and the odd certainty deep within her that what was happening was right. That this was how things were meant to be, ever since the very beginning. But—but how could that be? She was a girl and he was a mouse, separated by time and enchantment and the insurmountable barrier of his curse, two different beings from two completely different worlds. It didn't make sense. It _shouldn't_ make sense. But here she was now, standing at the lakeshore, hardly daring to breathe for fear of shattering the moment, looking into the eyes of a small mouse and seeing in them a vision of her future. 

The soul of the one person she had been searching for all her life.

A thin ray of sunlight pierced through the mists, making her blink. Yuki shook himself, seeming to recover from whatever trance he had fallen into. He padded closer to her, silvery whiskers flicking back in a smile. "Good morning, Honda-san."

"Yuki-kun." She smiled back and knelt down, facing him. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you come. Have you been standing there long?"

He shook his head. "I didn't mind."

The strange-familiar warmth flashed through her again, making her blush. "_Anoo_, I was just enjoying the sunrise. It's lovely, ne?"

"The sunrise?" 

She held out her hand for him to climb up on and settled him on her shoulder before turning back toward the horizon. "I love watching the colors change as the sun comes up. It always feels as if my heart was rising as well. I think no matter where you are, even here in the cursed forest, the sunrise will always be something filled with beauty and hope. Ack!" she yelped, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go on and on about something so silly."

"I don't think it's silly, Honda-san," Yuki replied quietly from his perch on her shoulder. "It's just that I don't think I've ever really seen the sunrise before." 

She glanced at him questioningly. 

"I used to love to stay in bed for as long as I could get away with it, back in the old days," he explained. "I was never a morning person, to tell you the truth. And after the curse, mornings just meant the transformation and a chance to escape the tower for a while, that's all. I guess I never really bothered to look before. You're right, though," he added, gazing out over the lake, the wonder evident in his voice. "It _is_ lovely." 

She smiled happily. "Then I'm glad I could share this very special sunrise with you. Yuki-kun's first real sunrise."

He turned to her in surprise, then his eyes softened. "Mm," he murmured. "I'm glad, too, Honda-san."

__

Oh what is the matter with me? She lowered her head, once again feeling her cheeks grow warm. She couldn't believe she was becoming all breathless and flustered over a—over a mouse! A very cute, very intelligent mouse granted, but a mouse nonetheless. Her reactions to him were beginning to worry her. Did she like him? Yes. Yes, she did. She liked him a lot. She wanted to be with him as much as she could. To learn more and more about him with each passing day, to know the things that made him happy, the things that mattered to him the most. It shook her how much she wanted it. Yaori help her, what did that say about her? Did she want to keep him as a—a pet or something, like Momiji and his bunnies?

No. Her entire being revolted against the idea. Despite his diminutive form, Yuki's essential nature was too big to be contained or pinned down or held against his will. His mind and his heart longed for freedom; the idea of chaining down a spirit as radiant as his went against everything Tohru believed in. Yuki deserved to be free. And so did Kyo. And Ritsu.

But wasn't that what Akito did? Put them in a cage and kept them as his pets?

__

Don't trust him.

"Honda-san."

Yuki's voice called her back to the present before she could follow the sobering turn of her thoughts. He was looking down at her chest, or rather, at the dark brown splotch on the front of her smock. "I thought I smelled blood," he stated grimly. 

She guiltily jerked her bandaged hand behind her back, but Yuki had already seen it. "What happened?"

"Ah, _etoo_…" Tohru cast about for a good explanation about the wound, came up empty, and settled for the truth instead. "I found a dagger on the ground last night, but I was clumsy again, and the dagger slipped. It's all right, though. Kyo-kun got rid of it and he bandaged up my hand."

Yuki tensed. "A dagger with a hawk's head?"

"Well, yes," she answered, startled. "Did you notice it yesterday, Yuki-kun?"

"Yes," he said, his eyes turning flat and cold. "More than that, I know what that dagger is for."

"Eh?"

"Honda-san—" He sighed heavily. "I know how much you value Kyo's friendship, and I don't doubt he means well. Hot-headed and stubborn and stupid beyond belief, but he means well, I suppose. But don't forget that Kyo is still under a curse, and therefore under Akito's sway. You can't be too trusting around him."

Tohru felt a chill run down her spine. "What do you mean, Yuki-kun?"

"I mean you have to be careful," he said patiently. "Oh, in his cursed form he's probably harmless. _Relatively_ harmless," he amended, eyeing the scratches on her neck. "But cats can't use daggers, and cats can't manipulate people or be manipulated in turn. Akito is still in control. He's toying with us, playing us like pawns on a chessboard. Just be careful, Honda-san. Don't be too trusting around Kyo. Or me, for that matter," he added almost inaudibly.

She shook her head, unable or unwilling to believe that she was hearing from Yuki almost the exact same warning Kyo had given her mere hours before. "I'm sorry, I—I don't understand."

Yuki drew in a breath. "Before you came here, Kyo spent his nights locked up in the tower, and Akito tormented him by dangling his freedom in front of him like a lure. Akito set all sorts of…impossible conditions for his release, and the idiot cat had no way of knowing that Akito has no intention of setting him free. Freedom is what Kyo desires most of all, and Akito knows this. Now he's here, roaming freely around the forest, staying with you and being your friend." He met her confused, agitated gaze squarely. "Honda-san, that dagger wasn't in the clearing when I brought you here. It only appeared when Kyo arrived."

She couldn't take this. She couldn't. "But he threw it away, Yuki-kun. He threw it into the lake, and he—" _—warned me about you too. He told me not to trust you, because you and Akito are the same person._ She closed her eyes against the thought. "How do you know all this?" she asked, unconsciously bracing herself for his answer.

Pain flickered in the violet depths before Yuki looked away. "Ritsu tells me. I don't usually remember what happens at night. It's not something I…like to dwell on."

Voices haunted her, chasing her around a never-ending cycle of doubts and uncertainties. Even words that had practically slipped past her consciousness rose up and added to the clamor inside her, until it was all she could do to keep her heart from shriveling up completely.

__

Your Prince of Snows is long gone. Yuki and Akito are one.

__

That dagger wasn't in the clearing when I brought you here. It only appeared when Kyo arrived.

__

I'm dangerous. I'll only hurt you again, or worse.

I become a monster. 

Serves you right. 

Her eyes opened wide, and she turned her gaze from the rising sun to the pillar of darkness that was the tower. The heavy, choking aura of malice seemed to reach out across the distance, mocking the daylight and the hope and beauty that she so foolishly believed in.

__

You will destroy them. And they will destroy you.

__

No, came the answer from deep within her. _It doesn't have to be this way. I won't let it._

"Honda-san."

She blinked as if coming awake from a dream. Yuki-kun was looking at her gravely. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't say all this just to upset you. I just—I just wanted to—"

She shook her head again and touched a finger underneath his chin, cutting off the rest of his apology. The soft silver fur tempted her and, giggling, she began to rub his stomach lightly until she could feel him shiver with reaction. "It's all right, Yuki-kun. I think I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes." She put her hand to her shoulder and when he jumped onto her palm, she held him out in front of her. "Thank you for caring, for wanting to protect me. Kyo-kun said almost the same thing because he wanted to protect me, too. But I'm not giving up. I believe in you, Yuki-kun, just as I believe in Kyo-kun. With all the things that Akito destroyed, he couldn't destroy either of you, because you still have that light within you. That's why I believe there's hope."

Yuki stared at her, his heart laid bare in his eyes. "Honda-san, I—"

He couldn't continue, and she smiled at him, rubbing his stomach again with a gentle finger. "I'm so glad I met you, Yuki-kun. I'm so glad I met someone like you, who kept true to his own beauty. You and Kyo-kun are both so strong, it makes me wonder what the two of you could do if you _did_ get along. Only, the thing Akito does best is keep you from believing in your own strength. But _I _believe in you, and if you believe like I do…" She sighed wistfully. "If you believe, Yuki-kun, I think you'll find your freedom right where it counts the most." 

An eternity passed in the space of a heartbeat, then Yuki reached up and captured her finger in both paws, amethyst eyes dark and intense. "No, Honda-san," he said huskily. "I won't have to believe, because I found you instead. I found a girl named Tohru Honda who lived as only Tohru Honda could. I won't need to believe to find hope, because now I'd _know_."

__

Someday, someone might just learn to choose life because you have.

Tohru's breath caught. Here it was. The reason she'd been born into this world. All that she'd lived through, every precious moment of love and joy, of pain and loss—everything led her to this one moment when a girl stood at a lakeshore and a mouse sat upon her hand, separated by time and enchantment, their hearts beating in the same ancient rhythm that had been set for them since the very beginning. This was all meant to be. She couldn't explain how it had come to pass, and perhaps she would never be able to, but for now…for now it was enough that she understood. Deep inside her, in the place where it counted the most, she understood.

__

Mother, you knew all along. Her lips parted in a soft smile. "Yuki-kun, I—aah!"

She jumped straight up into the air, flattening Yuki against her palm. Trembling, she glanced down at her feet where she felt…_something_ brush against her leg. "K-kyo-kun?!"

The fire-colored cat looked up at her with the most scornful expression she'd ever seen on a face that wasn't human, then he turned and brushed up against her leg once more before sitting down to wash himself, satisfied at having gotten her undivided attention. "Kyo-kun," she laughed, partly in joy at seeing him and partly in embarrassment at her melodramatic reaction. "You surprised me. Oh no! I'm so sorry, Yuki-kun! Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Yuki picked himself up and sighed. "That idiot cat is a curse in more ways than one."

"_Haaa_," was all Tohru could think to say. She put him back on her shoulder before Kyo could notice him, then nearly knocked him off again when she reeled in shock at the ear-splitting wail.

"Aaaaugh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm s-s-so sorry!"

Ritsu descended upon them like a deranged god, eyes flaring, skirts flying, hair exploding every which way. "I-I-I saw Kyo-sama coming and didn't try to stop him! I let him ruin your moment together! It's all my fault! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm so w-w-worthless!"

"Eh?!" Tohru's face burst into flame. "M-moment?!"

"How long have you been standing there, Ritsu?"

At Yuki's deceptively bland query, the kitchen-boy wailed again and threw himself at Tohru's feet, hands twisting into her skirt. "I-I-I was bringing breakfast but I was late again! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—_ite!_"

Three pairs of eyes turned toward Kyo. In the middle of Ritsu's rant, the cat had stalked toward the distraught boy and swiped at him with a well-aimed claw. Ritsu gaped at the cat, then down at the thin red line on his upper arm, then back at Kyo, who flattened his ears and hissed belligerently. Ritsu's mouth opened and closed. "That hurt," he finally said, more stunned than in pain.

"Rit-chan, are you all right?" Tohru instantly knelt beside Ritsu and began to dab at his scratch with her sleeve. 

Ritsu sniffled and looked mournful, but otherwise calmed down. "Th-there's a stain on your dress, Tohru-oneesama," he pointed out timidly.

Tohru didn't even glance down. "Um, yes, I had a bit of an accident."

"I-I brought another dress for you to wear." From out of nowhere, Ritsu produced another brown bundle and offered it to Tohru.

"Oh! Thank you, Rit-chan!" Tohru took the bundle and shook it out. It was a kitchen-maid smock identical to the one she and Ritsu were wearing now. She beamed at the abashed kitchen-boy. "Thank you so much. But I hope I'm not taking away all your clothes."

"Don't worry, Honda-san," Yuki said from her shoulder. "There's a lot more where those dresses came from."

"Eh? But—but why dresses?" she asked.

Ritsu and Yuki exchanged glances. "Th-they were my mother's and my s-sister's," Ritsu answered at last, looking down at his lap. "I-I wear them to remember, and because—because I'm not w-worthy to wear anything else."

Tohru went still. Somehow, she didn't even think about Ritsu's past, which must have been every bit as painful as Yuki's. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, her heart aching for the little kitchen-boy. "What happened to your mother and sister, Rit-chan?"

"M-mother died when the p-palace collapsed. O-oneechan was k-killed several days before."

So he'd lost his family, too. "I'm sorry," she said again, reaching out to touch his hand. Ritsu lifted his head and stared at her in surprise. "I miss my mother, too," she went on, trying to tell him that she understood. "I'm glad you have an older sister to remember, as well, Rit-chan."

"I-I—thank you," Ritsu whispered. Tohru could feel the warmth of Yuki's gaze, and she tilted her head to touch her cheek against his side. Kyo cracked one eye open from the sunny patch of grass he had curled up in, yawned, then turned his back on them with a huff of annoyance. 

Tohru regarded her companions with soft eyes. Strange that she had come so far, only to find friends she'd never known in the unlikeliest place imaginable, these remarkable spirits who had known pain and loss and still held on to life. Strange that she would come so close to dying in this land of monsters and curses, only to find that she had a home here—a place where, for one brief moment, she could belong. Her gaze fell upon the strange little cave in the middle of a patch of purple berries and tiny white flowers, and her eyes misted over. Strange that with all the destruction and death and the looming shadow of Akito hanging over them all, she could stumble upon a place and time that she wished would never end, because—because she was happy here. 

She was happy to be here, with Kyo and Ritsu and…and Yuki. Somehow, she didn't want it to end.

__

Mother, please help me find a way.

She realized that everyone else was watching her, and she smiled. "_Anoo_, is anyone else interested in breakfast?"

__

Help me find a way to make this last forever.

* - * - *

It couldn't last forever. Not something as incredible as this. Not in all the years of his imprisonment could Yuki have imagined a moment when he would find himself looking forward to the coming day and wishing he had the power to stop time altogether. Wishing he could stay where he was forever. He had forgotten what it was like to be filled with a sense of wonder and simple bliss; he doubted if he had ever known what happiness was, even back in the days before Akito and the curse. But he knew now, and the knowledge both exhilarated and frightened him.

He watched her as she chatted with him and Ritsu about nothing and everything. They would have stayed in the cave after she'd bathed, but she'd decided that the day was lovely enough for a picnic, and so here they were, sitting among the flowers with the remains of breakfast in front of them, doing something as mundane as basking in the sun and conversing. She sat with her skirts spread around her, her hair glinting honey and chestnut around her heart-shaped face, her aquamarine eyes as bright as her smile as she spoke about the shops and marketplaces in Mizaka, the parks where she and her mother used to walk, and the family that had taken her in after her mother died. The sound of her laughter warmed him more than the sunlight ever could. It mesmerized him. He couldn't imagine anyone more joyously alive than she, as if death itself could not touch her. He couldn't forget that it had, though. She'd been dying when he found her, her body wracked by fire and sickness, her heart nearly crushed by grief. The memory chilled him. For all her spirit, he couldn't forget how fragile and vulnerable she was, completely defenseless in every way that mattered. She hid nothing at all; every thought and emotion shone from the sea-blue depths for anyone to see. From what she'd told him, she was no stranger to hurt and rejection, yet she still trusted. She still opened her heart to everyone, choosing to believe instead of doubt. He wanted to warn her, to tell her that the world could not possibly be worthy of someone as exquisite as her. He wanted to keep her away from everything that could hurt her, to protect her from anyone who would seek to break her spirit. But all he could do was sit here and bask in the light of her presence. He truly was as weak as the mouse he appeared to be.

Or…or was he?

She said he was strong. He could see she believed it wholeheartedly. This beautiful, amazing girl saw strength within him, never realizing that what she was seeing was the strength within her. But she believed in him just the same. Somehow, she had looked past the weak, useless mouse and seen _him_. Akito didn't matter. His past and his curse didn't matter. To her eyes, he was just Yuki. 

__

How does she do it? he marveled. _How does she say the things I want her to say?_

"Yuki-kun, look!" she cried, pointing up at the sky. "That cloud looks just like you!"

He followed her gaze toward a cloud shaped vaguely like a mouse. "Mm. And that one over there looks just like the idiot cat. It's as full of air, too," he couldn't resist digging, just to see what would happen.

From its patch of grass, the cat lifted its head and eyed him balefully. Then it stood up, stretched, and curled up again, fully intent on ignoring them. And that was it. No challenging hiss, no yowl of fury, no leaping attacks with fur flying and claws bared. And here he was, sitting on the ground beside Tohru and presenting as tempting a target as he could without jumping up and down in front of the cat's face. Yuki had seen it with his own eyes, and he _still_ couldn't believe it.

He wasn't the only one. "I-is Kyo-sama ill?" Ritsu wondered.

Tohru cast a fond look at the cat. "I think Kyo-kun is just sleepy. He tried to teach me some healing techniques last night, and it must have tired him out."

The cat continued to ignore them.

Yuki stared at her. _She really didn't know_, he thought. She didn't know how much she'd changed them, and in so short a time. But then, how could she? She hadn't been here for the past seven years. She had no way of knowing that fear and despair were all that he and Ritsu had known, that innocent friendship was unheard of in Akito's world. Before she came, he and the idiot cat shared nothing but a mutual desire to see the last of the other, preferably through bloodshed. She couldn't know all that, and so thought nothing of the magic she had wrought upon them. A sweet serenity pervaded the clearing, and it radiated from her. The walls he had spent a lifetime erecting around his heart began to melt away, and for the first time in his life, Yuki knew what companionship and acceptance felt like. For the first time, he remembered what home felt like.

He turned to gaze across the lake with a silent sigh. How ironic to think about home when he was sitting here among the ruins of his own palace. This blighted realm wasn't his home, merely his prison, but for the first time, he felt almost…almost at peace. As if he'd fallen asleep and was dreaming this angel beside him, who had the power to turn the most hellish place into something close to paradise, and if it was a dream, then he prayed to all the gods that it was one he would never wake up from. 

Because when the dream finally ended, there would be nothing left to stand between him and the shadow anymore.

"Yuki-kun?"

"Hmm?" 

She was peering down at him, aquamarine eyes dark with concern. "Are you all right? You suddenly seem so quiet."

He shook his head. "It's nothing, Honda-san. I was just thinking, that's all."

She regarded him silently, then, seeming to decide not to press him about it, smiled and nodded. She reached down to gently stroke his back, and he could feel his body melt with pleasure at her touch. It was all he could do not to close his eyes and sigh. It constantly surprised him, how much she seemed to enjoy petting him. He hid a smile of his own. It figured that only she would be able to find something delightful in his curse. The thought seemed to throw open a window in the musty corners of his mind, and he tilted his head to gaze at her in dawning realization. Only she would be able to see beauty and hope in a forest full of ugliness. Only she would be able to draw out a frightened, wounded child who hid behind his mother's dresses and fits of contrition and make him smile again. Only she would be able to overcome the barriers of anger and hatred in a captive boy and get him to trust again. Only she…

Only Tohru…

__

Don't go there, a voice inside his head warned. _Don't be a fool if you can help it. You know how dangerous this kind of thinking can be._

"Yuki-kun, I saved the last sweetberries for you. I'm sorry there are so few left. Kyo-kun and I used them to practice last night, but I tried to make sure we didn't finish them up. I know how much you like sweetberries, too."

He must have made some sort of coherent response, because she'd smiled again and turned to ask Ritsu a question. Her fingers had stopped their soothing motions against his fur, but her hand still rested on the ground beside him. His gaze moved from her face to her hand, his eyes tracing every tapering curve and delicate line beneath her translucent skin. He had touched that skin before; its softness had been seared into his memory. For the first time, he was actually glad he was a mouse. Had he been human, no power on earth would have been able to stop him from taking that small white hand in his and touching his lips to each graceful finger. 

__

Don't think about it. Don't lose your head over a lot of useless longings. 

But it was too late. Every yearning fantasy he had had since the day she first came, which he had fought so hard to deny, burst through the cracks of his defenses and flooded his mind. Images danced in front of his eyes, fevered and relentless: Her aquamarine eyes widening, the entrancing rose tint rising into her cheeks, inviting his hand to brush against them and to feel the answering warmth of her skin against his. 

__

Don't think. Don't feel.

Her face turning toward his, her breaths stirring the air between them. His fingers threading through her hair as the chestnut tresses flowed over his arm in a silken caress 

__

Don't desire.

Her lips parting in surprise, those sweet pink lips that had captivated him ever since she first smiled at him. In his mind he gently traced their outline until they curved upward again in a tender smile meant only for him. Had he been human—

__

Don't hope.

"Yuki-kun? Are you all right?"

He blinked, suddenly aware that both Tohru and Ritsu were staring at him. "Ah, yes! Yes, I'm all right," he blurted as he nearly burst into flame in sheer embarrassment. Unable to look Tohru in the eye, he settled for glowering instead as Ritsu gawked at him, as if he'd never seen Yuki act like a scatty dimwit before. Realizing that he probably hadn't didn't make him feel any better. He consoled himself with the fact that Kyo was still napping—or still ignoring them with the same bull-headedness he had shown in every other instance—and had not witnessed his little gaffe.

He could feel the weight of Tohru's worried gaze upon him, and hurriedly scanned his memory for the threads of the conversation. "Ritsu's right, though. It does look like rain," he remarked calmly, looking up at the gathering storm clouds. He suddenly frowned. There was a heaviness in the air that he usually associated with the prelude to an electrical storm, when the barriers prepared to eliminate yet another trespasser into Akito's realm. But the atmosphere felt…different. Full of dark anticipation and watchful malice. Something was going to happen. He knew because Akito knew.

__

Akito. Sick despair drove away the lightheartedness of the past hours. He could deceive himself with all sorts of fanciful dreams and wishes, but Yuki knew better than to think that reality would be any kinder to him. He was Akito's vessel, and he could never aspire to be worthy of someone as good and pure and innocent as Tohru. When twilight fell and he woke up from this dream, he would be swallowed up by the shadow once more. He could only pray that, when he did wake up, he wouldn't find that he had taken Tohru into the darkness with him.

She had to leave, he decided. She had to get away from here before it was too late. He thought fleetingly about the Sun Stone, mildly surprised that he'd forgotten all about it, but it didn't matter now. All that mattered was that Tohru be given a chance to escape whatever fate awaited the three of them, and if the Sun Stone could give her that chance, no matter how slim, then he would be only too happy to leave it in her care. He could ensure that the Sun Stone's power didn't kill her. He could give her that much control over it. With several hours of daylight left, she still had enough time to make her way to the edge of the forest, force the barriers open, and run to safety. He would lead her there himself, offering her what little protection his presence afforded her from the monsters in the forest. He wouldn't think about the part of him that would shatter when she left. The only thing that mattered was that she be safe. 

He turned toward her, opening his mouth to begin his speech, only to come face to face with a tiny, perfect earth-star. Focusing past the white-petaled bloom, he found himself staring into Tohru's earnest, gentle eyes. "Here, Yuki-kun," she offered, holding out the earth-star to him. "The flowers were so pretty, I thought they might make you feel better. It's a bit silly but, um, I hope you don't mind," she added shyly.

He dazedly took the flower and clasped it in both paws. "No, Honda-san. I don't mind at all."

She smiled at him, and the world was that much brighter. "I don't think it's going to rain yet, Yuki-kun," she said softly.

And just like that, he knew. Unexplainable, unexpected, unwanted…but the certainty flowed through him just the same, awakening every nerve and drop of blood. Even if he lived for a thousand years, there would be no one else for him but her. He had waited for her for so long—seven years, two hundred, an eternity of torment in this hellish place—but somehow, he didn't know how, he had found her at last. Or she had found him. He had loved her forever—gods, how could he have not known it before? How could it have happened so quickly? And why had it taken him so long to realize this fundamental truth about his existence? He loved her, this beautiful, vulnerable girl whose heart could encompass the world. He loved her, and because he did he would lose her. She couldn't stay here. There was nothing but death for her here. She would leave and be safe from Akito's reach, and she would think back and remember a little mouse she'd met in a forest, never knowing that she had taken with her the one thing left of him that had been his sole reason to survive: the tattered remains of his heart.

__

You fool, the voice in his head sighed. _You've just taken that final step toward your own doom. Akito will never forgive you for this, and you have just handed him the key to your own destruction. You sad, pathetic fool._

No, it wouldn't last forever, and surely it was better this way. Their time together was running out; he would have to tell her very soon, while there was still daylight left. But for now, for just a little while longer, he would lose himself in her aquamarine gaze and feel her magic wrap around him in a warm embrace, and pretend that maybe, just maybe, the two of them were meant to be.


	25. Book 2, Chapter 29

* - * - *

He watched them from the shadows. Dear Yuki and his friends, being all cozy and having fun in their little picnic. He could see the glow in Yuki's eyes, and even the monkey-boy had ceased his constant caterwauling. The atmosphere of companionship lay thick upon the clearing. It was a touching sight.

It was a disgusting sight.

And in the middle of it all was the girl. This scrawny, pitiful girl who had no power beyond what had been granted her. For a weak, foolish creature, she had far exceeded his expectations; not even he had foreseen how quickly the Ashari boy and his own dear brother would succumb to her charms. Already she had broken through their defenses. It won't be long now before she destroyed them completely. 

The power was changing. The heavens sang with it; the very earth trembled from it. The forces that had kept the balance of his realm in this time beyond time had shifted inexorably outward, and beyond his borders the rest of the world writhed as he grew in strength with each passing day. The City of Mizaka had nearly fallen. Its inhabitants were scattered and divided, fighting amongst themselves in a mindless panic while their leaders gradually lost their wills and their wits. He need not waste time on that city; his people had already seen to its downfall. The Shukari's desire for vengeance had smoldered through the ages; his people need not wait for long for his rebirth.

But Ryuukama still fought on. And it was in Ryuukama, the city of magic and healing, that the greatest threat to his plans of revenge and conquest lay. The Duke's will was proving to be formidable, but even he had a weakness. Even now his daughter lay wasting away, and the Duke's spirit was faltering. The city's survival hung in the balance; when the Duke fell, the city would follow. 

And the kingdom would at long last be his. 

The girl was the key. It was through her that the protection spell surrounding the Ashari boy would be broken; it was she who would deliver his greatest weapon into his hands. Not the bauble merged in her body, as they all seemed to believe, much to his amusement; it was the child of sorrow himself. The twice-cursed child of sorrow. After all, the only way to defeat a protection spell of this nature was if the bearer of the spell himself broke it of his own free will.

And when she had fulfilled her purpose, the girl would die.

It almost made him smile. Dear Yuki had become attached to this girl, even fancied himself in love with her. He himself had set them on this course, but all of a sudden the idea infuriated him. He and the beautiful young Sohma prince were far closer than brothers could be. How dare Yuki give to that girl a part of him that he constantly denied his own flesh and blood, the one who had granted him immortality? It was intolerable. Yuki was his, body and soul. He would not allow this filthy little slut to take his brother away from him.

But the girl will die. The child of sorrow will see to it. And what of Yuki then, when he finds he had lost his precious Honda-san? Poor, sad Yuki. So broken-hearted. But he would be there to comfort him. Yuki, his dear little brother, would hide from him no longer. Everything would be just as the Goddess willed it.

From the depths of the forest, a pair of ebony wings unfurled, and with a harsh cry the hawk launched itself into the air, circling over the forest once before returning to the tower.

__

Soon, he decided. _Very soon_.

-------------------------

Author's Notes:

Whoa. This is weird. I actually finished this update last week. This is probably not me writing. I'm probably still asleep in bed.

I'm trying my best to keep an even hold on the romantic parts, not too fast but not too slow. Although I like reading romance, I haven't really tried writing it, so I'm not sure if I handled the Yukiru moments well. Um, in case I didn't, please tell me so I can fix it up.

And to everyone who waited (once again, I sincerely apologize-I know it sucks to wait for an update) and somehow kept on reading and reviewing, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH! with much teary-eyed sniffling

Book 2 is about to reach its climax. Please continue to read, minna-san. Reviews are more than welcome. You guys are the best.


	26. Book 2, Chapter 30, 31, 32 & 33

* - * - *

She bit her lip and peeked at him from the corner of her eye, unable to stop herself from worrying. He'd seemed preoccupied for some time now, and she wondered what he was thinking of. Judging from the shadows in his eyes, it couldn't be all that good.

She sighed. It had been impulse that led her to give him the flower earlier as an attempt to cheer him up. Well, he _did_ smile; she couldn't have mistaken the way his eyes warmed when he accepted her little offering, but after a while, he ended up looking even more pensive than before. She'd caught him staring at her several times, but each time his expression grew more and more troubled. Neither did she miss the way his gaze sometimes drifted toward the tower, as if to remind himself of something unpleasant but necessary. He seemed to be wrestling with some difficult decision; or else, having come to that decision, was now trying to find the words to say it. A stab of dread went through her. She could only think of two things that could weigh so heavily on his mind. He was either going to ask her to give him the Sun Stone, which would then confirm everything Kyo warned her about him, or else…or else he was going to ask her to leave.

Her fingers clenched tightly against the folds of her skirt. She didn't want to leave. At least not yet, and certainly not without him and Kyo and Ritsu. It had seemed so simple when Kyo asked her last night, but this was Yuki. If she knew it would make him happy she'd do it in a thrice, but not to leave him, not like this. She didn't want to hear it from him.

Beside her, the small silver form lifted his head. "Honda-san, there's something—"

"_Anoo_, what was it that Rit-chan said he had to do back at the tower?" she asked quickly before he could complete his sentence.

"I asked him to fetch some food and clothing for you. I think he's got an old cloak stashed somewhere that would fit you. It's for your—"

"W-when did you ask him this, Yuki-kun? I don't think I heard you say anything like that."

His whiskers twitched in amusement, as if he knew what she was trying to do. "It was when you were chasing after that idiot cat to keep him in the clearing."

"Oh," she said miserably, remembering how she'd stood at the edge of the clearing for several minutes calling for Kyo, whose only response was an indignant glare before he disappeared into the forest on whatever mysterious errand cats had to do. She felt a light touch upon her knee, and looked down into Yuki's grave little face.

"Honda-san, I'm trying to tell you that you have to leave. Today, in fact. It's just a little past mid-day, so there's still enough time before twilight. I can take you to the barriers at the edge of the forest and try to keep the monsters off you. Do you think you can do it?"

Mutely, she shook her head.

"I think you've recovered enough from your fever. Let me deal with the Sun Stone. Don't worry," he assured her. "I won't take it from you, but I can make sure it won't kill you, either."

His words made her feel like crying. _Oh Kyo-kun, you're wrong about him, you know._

"Honda-san, please listen to me," he went on, the note of urgency rising in his voice. "You can't stay here, it's too dangerous. You don't know Akito the way we do; he won't hesitate to kill you or worse. You don't belong here in any case, not in a forest full of monsters, curses and dark sorcerers. This is no way for anyone to live."

"You don't belong here either, Yuki-kun," she pointed out before she could stop herself. Yuki barely reacted, but she could almost feel him retreat behind his mental walls again, the way he did when she'd said something that hurt him. "I'm sorry," she said in a tiny voice.

He shrugged away her apology. "Honda-san, I can't protect you," he said, the words sounding as if they'd been wrenched from in his gut. "None of us can, not even Kyo. I—we just want you to be safe, and from what you've told me about Kyo, I think he'd agree. Ritsu will be back any time now. Please, Honda-san. You must leave."

Instead of replying, she reached down and traced her finger along the soft fur of his back, half-afraid that he would draw away from her. He went stiff for a moment then relaxed, leaning into her hand. "Will you come with me, Yuki-kun?"

He pulled back in shock. "What?"

"Will you come with me?" she repeated. "Out of this forest, I mean. You see, I'm not leaving without you. I'm taking you and Kyo-kun and Rit-chan with me. I'm not leaving any of you behind, so—so will you come with me? Please?"

"Honda-san…" He trailed off, his body quivering with emotions he'd lost the ability to articulate.

"I can carry you in my pocket," she added hastily, just in case he was wondering if she'd thought this out at all. "And I can carry Kyo-kun in my arms. I think he'll let me, now that he knows who I am. Please, Yuki-kun. Please come."

"Honda-san, I—I can't," he said in a voice that wasn't quite steady. "I'm sorry. And to be honest, neither can Kyo nor Ritsu. You're the only one who isn't burdened with a curse, and with the Sun Stone inside you, you're the only one with enough power to get through the barriers. You're the only one who has a chance to escape." 

"Oh." Her spirits fell when she realized that he was right. There were still Yuki's and Kyo's curses to consider, and she wasn't sure if Ritsu would agree to come with her. She couldn't very well force the kitchen-boy into something he'd rather not attempt, could she? And although she couldn't see anything particularly deadly about Kyo's cat form, Yuki seemed convinced that his own curse was a threat to her. She recalled the desolation in his eyes when twilight fell, and had to quell a shudder. There were so many things she still didn't understand about him. Why was he so afraid for her? Could it be—could it be Kyo was right? 

__

Mother, what do I do? I can't leave them behind, but I can't stay here, either. Kisa-san is still waiting for me. What do I do now?

She felt a gentle pressure on her hand where Yuki had laid both paws in a comforting gesture. "Honda-san, if things had been different," he said haltingly, "if _I_ had been different, I would have followed you anywhere, to the ends of the earth if you wanted me to. I just want you to know."

Warmth flared inside her again, helping soothe the fear that she would have to leave without him. She smiled at him, and resumed lightly stroking his back. "Yuki-kun, will you tell me about the transformation?" she asked after a while.

He tensed, but she continued to pet him until his body relaxed. "Why do you want to know?"

"It's just that I've seen Kyo-kun in both his forms, but I've only seen you in this form. I—I just want to know."

He looked away before she could catch a glimpse of his eyes. "What I become at night is something I hope to gods you never have to see, Honda-san." 

__

So much pain, she thought again, her heart aching for him. "Kyo-kun said something strange the first time I met him. He called you a 'conjurer' and…a lot of other names. He seemed surprised when I told him about Akito, as if he'd never heard of him before. When I explained about your curse, he said something even stranger. He said—he said that you and Akito were one."

The silence stretched thin and taut. "Unbelievable," Yuki commented with a humorless laugh. "The idiot cat finally figured it out."

Tohru went cold. "Then—then it's true?"

He nodded slowly. "As I said before, Akito invested a lot of his power into creating this realm, and it drastically weakened his body. He was wasting away when he found me, and he needed another body for his soul to inhabit or he would die. However, it also takes a lot of energy to take over another body while the original soul is still connected to it, so Akito can only stay inside my—his new body at night, occupying a more easily dominated form during the daytime to recoup his strength. Hence my curse."

Despite his impassive narration, Tohru could feel horror rising up within her. Akito stole Yuki's body _every night?_ She could hardly bend her mind around the concept, much less accept the fact that Akito virtually owned Yuki. The memory of the creeping darkness and the image of the silver-haired boy watching from the tower returned to her, making her shiver. So it _had_ been Akito she was seeing, but it was Yuki, too. Yuki's body with Akito's soul. The very idea turned her stomach. "What happens to you then, Yuki-kun?" she asked the stiff little form in front of her.

"I disappear," was his soft reply.

Her eyes filled with tears again. _This is wrong._ _This is all wrong_. She thought about Kyo, whose untamed spirit demanded to be free, locked in a dungeon at night and sealed within a small, unthinking shape during the day. About Ritsu, whose body was his but whose mind was shackled by such paralyzing fear it was practically a curse in itself. And Yuki, sweet, gentle Yuki, who had had everything stolen from him, even his own body. How could anyone do this to them? What kind of person would take three innocent beings and torture them like this?

The kind of person who would shatter a kingdom because he believed it was right.

__

Akito. 

Without a word, she picked Yuki up and set him on her shoulder before heading toward the lake. She stood on the shore again, staring at the tower. Akito's dark presence was nearly tangible, pressing down heavily upon her. "Yuki-kun?"

"Yes?"

"How do you break the curse?"

She'd surprised him again, she could tell. "It can't be done," he answered. "Only Akito can do it."

__

And Akito would never do it, was the unspoken thought between them. Tohru frowned. Everything began and ended with Akito. She tried to remember everything she knew about the sorcerer, which, she had to admit, was limited only to the story her mother told her and Yuki's and Kyo's warnings. She knew that Akito was powerful, but his power was dark and cruel and different from that of the mages in the old kingdom. His mother was a witch-woman of the Forbidden Tribe, but he grew up in the palace because his father was—his father was the king himself. A small gasp escaped her. "Yuki-kun, Akito is your brother, isn't he?"

For a moment, she thought Yuki would refuse to answer her. "Yes," he said, the solitary word falling between them like a stone on the surface of a lake, a tacit admission of Yuki's true identity. _The king's first-born son_…_Yuki's brother_…_ yet he would do this to him, to his father's kingdom?_ She drew in a breath to ask him another question when Yuki cut her off.

"Don't, Honda-san," he told her. "Akito isn't just some villain from a children's story. Far stronger people than any of us have gone up against him and perished. He may have been weakened physically, but his power has been growing for the past two hundred years. He won't be swayed, and he can't be defeated. Thinking he can is a mistake that will only get you killed."

"But—"

"This realm isn't all that it seems to be. This lake, this forest, the barriers—Akito created them not to keep anything _out_, but to keep something _in_. This realm is a prison before anything else."

"I don't understand."

"Honda-san, Ritsu, Kyo and I aren't the only ones imprisoned here," Yuki stated grimly. "Do you remember the story? When Akito came to the palace, he brought with him not just an army of demons but something else as well. Something dark and terrible that should not have been summoned into this world. Ever since then, this being has been sealed underneath the tower, waiting for its chance to break free and finish what it started, and the only person who can send it back into the netherworld is Akito himself. He's the only one who can control it. If he should weaken too much…" He took a deep breath. "Honda-san, Akito _can't_ be defeated because he's the only one who stands between your world and this thing. A city had been devoured before; if this being should ever break free of its seal, it won't ever stop at that."

Tohru made a small, whimpering sound. There seemed to be no solution to this tangle at all. If Akito should weaken, then this terrible creature who seemed to frighten even Yuki would lay siege to the world, and to keep this from happening Akito needed Yuki's body. Yuki was trapped on all sides. "But why does Akito need Rit-chan or Kyo-kun?"

"Ritsu's job is to tend to the seal beneath the tower. And, well, Ritsu stays for reasons of his own. As for Kyo…" He shook his head. "I don't know what Akito plans to do with him. One thing is certain, though. Akito will never set any of us free."

She bowed her head in defeat. _I don't have a choice at all, do I, Mother?_ _I'll have to leave them behind. Kyo-kun, Rit-chan…Yuki-kun…_

She felt a tiny paw touch her damp cheek. How strange, she didn't even know she was crying. "Honda-san, don't," he whispered, agonized. "Please don't cry. Nothing here can be worth your tears."

She sniffled and brushed ineffectually at her tears, trying to ignore the hollow ache inside her at the thought of abandoning her friends. _It shouldn't have to be this way._

What did you think you could do?

"Ritsu's here," Yuki announced wretchedly. "It's all right, Honda-san. You won't have to stay here any longer. You'll be free."

She shook her head again, reaching for him to hold him out in front of her. "Not yet, Yuki-kun. Please? Don't send me away, at least not yet."

"Honda-san—"

"Please?" she begged, cutting off his protest. "One more night. Please let me stay here just one more night. I want to say goodbye to Kyo-kun, and I—I just want to be with you today. First thing tomorrow I'll leave, I promise, just please let me have one more day with you."

A tiny part of her registered movement beyond them. Ritsu had rowed the raft ashore and was now creeping uncertainly toward them, a small sack and a cloak held at his side. Her entire being however was focused on the little silvery-white form in front of her, pleading with him with everything she had. Yuki trembled, and his eyes were wide and unblinking, the violet depths filled with such fear and anguish and desperate longing that it made her breath catch. She nearly gave in then; she was only hurting him more with her stubbornness when all he wanted was to keep her safe, but then Yuki tore his gaze away from her, drawing in a shaky breath. 

"Y-Your Highness?" Ritsu called questioningly. 

Yuki glanced at him over his shoulder, then turned back to Tohru. "Honda-san—"

A spasm of pain shot through her. _He's going to refuse._

"All right. Just one more night," he relented, almost in a whisper. He gazed up at her with a sad, rueful little smile. "Nobody ever told me I'd have to learn to refuse someone like you." 

Her heart leaped, and Tohru smiled through her tears, the smile widening into a grin and finally into a peal of happy laughter as she brought Yuki closer and rubbed her cheek against his back. Ritsu beamed and surreptitiously dabbed at his eyes with the cloak, and from her peripheral vision, Tohru saw a small, orange shape wend its way through the grasses. She took them all in, her strange and now beloved friends, and laughed again, determined to hold back the coming sorrow for as long as she could. A voice inside her informed her in no uncertain terms that she was being stupid and selfish again, that another night spent here wouldn't make a hint of a difference, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to regret it. Tomorrow she would leave and continue on her way to Ryuukama, but today would be hers.

One more day and one more night would be hers.

* - * - *

He should have resisted. He shouldn't have given in so easily to her pleading. Nothing good ever came out of delaying the inevitable. But how could he? Yuki stared up into her bright aquamarine eyes, reveled in the sound of her joyous laughter, and with a sigh of defeat acknowledged his weakness: he would do anything to keep her looking like that. Anything at all.

Oh, he was selfish. Selfish and weak. Little by little he'd been dying inside when he'd told her she had to leave, but now he felt as if he'd been given a reprieve. Guilt followed not too far behind. It wasn't for her that he'd agreed, it was for him. He couldn't lose her, not when he'd just found her despite the impossible odds. But he also knew that the longer she stayed here the more her life was jeopardized. He knew she could never be his. He had to let her go.

__

Tomorrow, his heart insisted stubbornly, foolishly. _I'll let her go tomorrow_.

And so he watched her, memorizing her smile, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, the gentleness of her hands, the fragrance of her hair. Something to hold on to when the darkness surrounded him. Tomorrow she would leave, but for now, for a few hours more precious to him than all the treasures of the world, he would have this.

One more day would be his.

* - * - *

The fire-colored cat sat down in the patch of grass he'd claimed as his own and watched the trio with only the slightest interest. The two tall ones seemed happy enough, despite the fact that the both of them were leaking salt water, particularly the tall one who smelled of flowers and sunshine. The irritating little creature he'd been pursuing sat atop her front paws and appeared to be in danger of getting cuddled to death by the tall one, although the creature didn't seem to mind at all. The cat flicked his ears back disdainfully. He didn't care if the little pest did get the life squeezed out of it; right now he didn't care much about anything as long as he could curl up in this comfortable nest away from the rest of the forest and its murderous inhabitants. Besides, he liked being near the tall one who smelled like flowers. She felt friendly and safe, and the cat didn't question his instincts about things like that.

But somewhere behind the slanted crimson eyes, the soul that lay dormant within the small, feline body stirred. Red-orange ears cocked forward again, and strange thoughts drifted through the cat's apathetic mind.

__

Daylight. I—I'm awake? Tohru is here…and the mouse. She's…smiling. So beautiful. 

What the hell is going on?

Something flickered in the crimson eyes, just before the cat turned and began to idly wash itself.

__

They're talking. What're they saying? Dammit, look_ at them, will you?!_

The cat blinked as the alien voice in his head raged impotently at him. _They're talking about leaving. She's—she's leaving? No, she can't leave…_

But she has to…

I'll never see her again…

The cat watched as the tall one continued to pet the annoying creature, then decided that he too wanted that kind of attention. He stood up languidly, sauntered over to the tall one and wound himself around her legs, informing her of her lapse. The tall one made a pleasant, breathy sort of noise and reached down to scratch him behind the ears. The cat purred his approval.

__

She's not leaving yet. She's going to stay…one more night. What the hell? That damned stupid mouse, send her away! She can't stay here. She can't stay…

I can see her again tonight. 

I can be with her.

I can say goodbye.

Tohru.

An insect hopped onto a nearby rock, drawing the cat's attention. Crimson eyes watched alertly, then pounced on the insect, which somehow managed to jump aside at the last minute. The cat gave chase, strange thoughts and alien voices completely forgotten.

__

One more night. The voice faded away as the enchantment cast its sleeping spell upon the trapped soul once more. _One more night would be mine._

* - * - *

__

One more night.

He smiled to himself. They were playing right into his hands. Dear Yuki, the child of sorrow…and the girl. He watched her as she laughed and played with his brother, his sharp, dark eyes piercing the distance. They looked so happy. _She_ looked so happy. The silly, stupid bitch.

He would show her. He would reveal the truth to her. His plan was unfolding, and it would begin with her. Poor little would-be savior. He wanted to see the look on her face when she found out what secrets her precious friends were keeping from her. 

And then she would die. 

The immense black hawk sitting upon the rooftop of the tower stretched out its wings and opened its beak wide in a silent, exultant cry. It would all end tonight.

Just one more night, and they would all be his.


	27. Book 2, Chapter 34

* - * - *

__

Why was it, Tohru wondered, _that the more you tried to hold back time, the faster the hours seemed to slip through your fingers?_

She raised a hand above her head and spread her fingers against the skyscape, trying to keep the streaks of gold from bleeding into the melancholy rose hue of late afternoon. Her hand was a small, dark shape against the steadily shifting expanse of sky, utterly powerless against the flowing tide. She lowered her arm, and a small sigh escaped her.

From his perch on her knee, Yuki tilted his head toward her and gave her a soft glance. "What are you thinking of, Honda-san?"

She flushed at having been caught being so maudlin. "Eh? Nothing much, really. Just how fast time seems to fly. It's almost twilight already."

"Mm." His eyes clouded, just before he too turned toward the setting sun. "Darkness always falls quickly in this realm."

"But it didn't before, did it, Yuki-kun?" she asked. "The palace and the city must have been so beautiful before, with all those mountains in the north and the river in the south."

"Yes they were," Yuki replied almost wistfully. The two of them had talked most of the hours away, with Tohru regaling Yuki with stories of the three Sohmas she had lived with, and Yuki returning the favor with a few anecdotes about his life as the beloved prince of Kaibara. She could tell he found it difficult to talk about his past, though, and steered the conversation away the minute his voice began to falter. But he seemed fascinated by her stories of Shigure, Haru and Momiji, as well as the little that she knew about Hatori, his wife Kana and his daughter Kisa. That made sense, considering that Yuki, too, was a Sohma. Probably a distant ancestor, an idea that simply boggled the mind. In fact, he had even remarked, with a touch of sardonic humor, that his family was so prolific that after the world had ended it figured there would be at least one Sohma left standing. It sounded eerily like something Shigure or Haru would have said, and Tohru wondered how the three Sohmas she'd considered her family would have taken to Yuki. With a pang of sorrow, she supposed she would never know.

They had long since exhausted all conversation and sat now in companionable silence, watching the sky change color with the passage of time. Ritsu had left them long before, mumbling something about having chores to do, and Tohru found herself feeling grateful for this chance to be alone with Yuki. Well, not alone, technically. Kyo had abandoned his cozy nest and was now sprawled on top of the cave, soaking up the last rays of the sun. Tohru felt her heart sink even lower at the prospect of saying goodbye to Kyo. Or to Ritsu, for that matter. Hard to believe that only three days had gone by since she came here; she felt as if she'd known them forever. And inside her, the deep conviction still burned that leaving them now, in this cursed place, would be the one thing she would regret for the rest of her life.

Her eyes lowered to the stoic little form upon her knee, and the tears spilled over all of a sudden. She still didn't understand how she could feel so heartbroken at the idea of leaving Yuki behind. She'd known Kyo and Ritsu as humans, at least, but Yuki…Yuki confused her. She knew he was special—the rarest, kindest, most beautiful creature she'd ever met, but she'd never known him as a human. In her mind, she would always see him as a mouse—an adorable silvery-white mouse with amethyst eyes that would forever haunt her dreams—but a mouse just the same. If she'd met him as a human, the way he might have been if not for the curse, then perhaps…perhaps things would have been different between them. 

Perhaps she would have found herself falling in love with him. 

But then, it was just one more thing she would never know.

"Honda-san."

She gave a start and hastily wiped her tears away. "Yes?"

"Can you do something for me?"

"Of course, Yuki-kun." _Ask me to stay and I will_, a traitorous voice whispered, and she quickly tamped it down.

"Remember me when you've left this place."

Her entire chest seemed to clench. "W-what?"

He turned, his gaze meeting hers with that odd and thoroughly confusing jolt. "Not just me. Ritsu too, and Kyo. Something's about to happen. The power in this realm has changed, and it won't be long now before Akito makes his move. When he does, the world will remember him, but I doubt anyone would remember any of us. It'd be nice to know that there's one person who knew us before the darkness swallowed us up. If I knew that Honda-san remembered me, I think—I think I'd be able to endure even the darkness. I know Ritsu and Kyo would be the same."

__

How could you even ask? she wanted to tell him. _How could you even think for a moment that I would forget you, any of you?_ She couldn't answer, though. The tears had drowned out her voice. But she nodded anyway.

Yuki smiled as if a burden had been lifted from him. "Thank you."

She choked back a sob. "Will you—will you remember me, Yuki-kun?" she managed around the knot in her throat.

His violet eyes darkened. "Honda-san," he said softly, "you will be the last thing I see before my eyes close forever."

Once again, the power of speech abandoned her. 

"Don't cry," he said again. "Nothing here is worth your tears." With a frown, he looked up at the sky, noting the creeping purple of twilight. "I have to go. The sun is almost gone."

__

No, please don't go. Don't leave me yet, she tried to tell him, but could make no sound other than a shaky hiss of breath. 

He jumped down, sparing a glance at the cave. "The idiot cat's vanished. He must already be feeling it, too." He suddenly went stiff, fighting back a tremor as the enchantment began to take hold. "Stay here," he gasped when it was over. "Wait for Kyo. Don't leave the clearing."

And with that, he turned and darted away.

Tohru watched him disappear, feeling the moment stretch and warp. Thoughts and emotions tumbled through her in a wild kaleidoscope of flashing images and remembered voices. She sat frozen and wide-eyed, barely breathing even as her tears continued to fall.

__

He's gone. He couldn't stay. Yaori help me, what do I do now? He'll disappear. Akito will take him again. But I can't do anything. I can't set him free. I can't…I can't…

Then, from out of the spiraling insanity, she heard her mother's voice once again. _Your Prince of Snows is waiting for you._

She gasped, and in the next instant she was up and running, following the path that Yuki had taken. The darkness had deepened, but it seemed as if she could see as clearly as if it were broad daylight. Sand and stone and clinging reeds crunched underneath her feet as the clearing melted away behind her, and the hulking forms of the trees loomed over her, reaching out with gnarled branches toward her, and in her chest the Sun Stone answered with a warning flare of heat. She gasped again, but didn't slow down until she could see Yuki's small form lying on the ground just up ahead, where he'd apparently fallen. There was an explosion of white and purple mist, surrounding him in a spinning, glowing hurricane while at the heart of it the little mouse shape transformed into pure, shimmering silver. Tohru stumbled to a halt, and as she watched in utter shock, the silvery mouse form began to shift and grow, as if the lines had broken and were free to reform themselves into something else…something _human_.

Tohru felt numb. The silver sheen had faded, and the new form rose straight and tall in the middle of the storm of white mist. Her eyes grew impossibly wide. A boy stood there, as naked as the day he was born, his pale, smooth skin gleaming against the darkness, silvery hair stirred about by the mist. He offered his profile to her as he stared straight ahead at the tower, and Tohru followed the perfectly sculpted lines of his cheek and nose, down his throat and shoulder, and over his tightly muscled chest and lower still to his slim hips and legs, unaware that she was openly gawking at him. _Definitely human_, came the disjointed thought._ An unbelievably gorgeous human. Not a mouse at all._

The realization nearly struck her blind. _Oh gods, the transformation! This is Yuki's true form! _

She took a step forward, her hand reaching out toward him, and by some miracle, she finally found her voice. "Yuki-kun?" she croaked.

The boy turned toward her, and Tohru gasped out loud. His was a face of almost unearthly beauty, but there was nothing in it. The thin, well-formed lips neither smiled nor frowned, and the stunning violet eyes beneath the silver bangs were as flat and empty as glass beads. There was no hint of recognition or of anything else in that face. The perfect human form before her was completely devoid of life, making Tohru feel as if she was looking at the most exquisite doll ever created. All trace of Yuki the mouse had been wiped out utterly.

__

But this was Yuki, too! she reminded herself. This was Yuki's body, and it belonged to him, not to Akito. Somewhere within this cold, lifeless shell, Yuki's soul lay trapped beneath the curse.

The boy turned back to the tower as if dismissing her. He stepped upon the lake as if it had turned as solid as rock, and instantly a wide, silver beam of light blazed upon the surface of the water, extending between him and the island. He took another step, obviously intending to return to the tower—and to Akito.

"No!" 

The ragged cry was torn from her, and in a flash she rushed forward and flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his chest as tightly as she could. Water lapped up against her ankles, soaking the hem of her skirt, and the whirling white mist chilled her everywhere it touched her. But all she did was tighten her hold on him, pressing her cheek against his smooth, warm back. "No, no, don't go," she begged as hot tears streamed down her face and dampened his skin. "Please, Yuki-kun, don't go back to him. Wake up, oh please wake up, Yuki-kun!"

He didn't move. 

"Please," she wept brokenly. "Please, Yuki-kun. It's me, Tohru Honda. Don't you remember me? I remember you, I'll _always_ remember you. You're Yuki-kun, sweet, gentle Yuki-kun who likes sweetberries and tending to gardens and staying in bed late, who tries to take care of Rit-chan and even Kyo-kun and who won't hesitate to save another person's life even when he believes his own can't be saved. Please, Yuki-kun. Remember who you are. Don't go back to him, please."

The icy mists whipped at her with greater fury, forcing her to close her eyes and cling even more tightly to him. The body in her arms shuddered powerfully, and had she been looking, she would have seen the blank violet eyes flicker and change, the color deepening and coming alive. Terrified that he was about to pull away and go striding off across the lake, Tohru dug her fingers into her arms with bruising strength and braced herself for his rejection.

"Honda…san?"

Her eyes flew open. She raised her head, wondering if she'd imagined that familiar voice speaking her name. He shuddered again and shifted in her arms, forcing her to loosen her grip on him enough to allow him to turn in her embrace. She found herself staring up into his face, his violet eyes no longer empty but as wide as hers and stormy with confusion, disbelief and pure, unadulterated shock. He met her gaze, and his eyes softened with a new emotion, one that stole her breath away and made her heart race. The connection she'd felt with him earlier, the sweet rapture of having found someone she'd been searching for forever, became a raw, powerful force between them, sweeping aside all her doubts and fears about the rightness of it all.

And she understood at last how this was all meant to be.

His hands lifted and cupped her face, his fingers tracing her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, his thumb brushing over her parted lips. His other hand slid into her hair and over her throat, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse. He was shaking badly, but then so was she. She smiled tremulously even as her tears spilled down her lashes and splashed onto his hands, and even though he barely blinked, his eyes too filled with tears, trickling unnoticed down his face. 

"Honda-san," he whispered. 

"Yuki-kun," she sighed. "You remembered."

His own lips parted in a smile that made her insides melt. _Yuki-kun's first real smile_, she thought dazedly. "I remembered _you_, Honda-san. I always will."

She smiled again as a blush warmed her cheeks. His eyes darkened in response, and slowly he lowered his head to hers. "Honda-san," he whispered again. "Tohru…"

Then he stopped, mere inches away from her face, his eyes slamming shut. She frowned in puzzlement. "Yuki-kun?" 

"Run," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"W-what?"

"Run! Get away from me!" He tore her arms off him and pushed her away, sending her stumbling backward onto the shore. As if on cue, she heard another familiar voice shouting at them, coming from the direction of the clearing.

"Bastard! Don't touch her!"

She spun around to see Kyo sprinting toward them, the red-gold mists of his own transformation still whirling around his naked body. The next moment, he was standing between her and Yuki, forcing her to move even farther away from Yuki. "You fucking bastard," Kyo growled, "what have you done to her? If you've hurt her—"

"Honda-san," Yuki called, ignoring Kyo completely. She met his gaze from somewhere behind Kyo's shoulder, and the broken despair in his face tore at her heart. "Honda-san, I'm sorry."

Yuki's body glowed a sick shade of green, and he choked and closed his eyes, just as the white and purple mists enveloping him wrapped around him, solidifying into a white shirt, trousers and boots, with a black pendant shaped like a hawk hanging around his neck and a sword slung at his hip. At the same time, and the red-gold streams around Kyo closed in around him, becoming the familiar black shirt and brown breeches he wore. Yuki opened his eyes again, and even Kyo bit back a curse.

The once-violet eyes weren't violet anymore, but an amused wintry gray, and the smile on his lips was cold and calculating. The creeping darkness that Tohru had felt before surrounded him in a noxious aura, and the air crackled with malevolent power. 

Tohru felt her blood turn to ice. She had finally witnessed Yuki's true transformation, and was now face to face with the dark sorcerer Akito for the first time. And through the rising haze of her terror, she found herself wondering whether she or Kyo would ever make it out of this alive. 

------------------------------

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the cliff-hanger. I still haven't finished the next part yet. Don't kill!

Thank you, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! It makes me want to cry. (R Junkie, you are an inspiration. Or a motivation. Either way, thanks for your comments. ^__^)

Mmm, a few points about the story: I'm not sure if it's moving fast enough. It's a grand total of four books, actually, and Book 3 is coming soon. That's where everyone comes in—Momiji, Haru, Uo-chan in one thread, Shigure and Saki in another (what happens to them? won't tell, won't tell! ^__~), Yuki, Kyo, Ritsu and Akito in yet another, and of course Tohru, Kagura, Ayame and Hatori and his group in the last. (I gave spoilers to my own story. I must be sick.) I really wanted to center Book 2 around the people at the heart of the story. Book 4 is where it all ends, of course. Oh, and about Akito, he more or less takes on the form of the hawk during the daytime, although his awareness extends throughout his realm. 

If you're still not sick of this monstrously long fic, please continue to read and review. You guys are the best, as always.


	28. Book 2, Chapter 35

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The night deepened. The stormclouds that had been massing ominously all day churned and gyrated, and green-tinged lightning struck the heavy black peaks again and again. But there was no sound. Tohru could hear nothing but Kyo's ragged breaths over the roaring in her ears. The rustling of the forest and the waters of the lake had gone completely still. Everything was fixed upon the vision of cold, deadly perfection clothed in white standing before them. 

"Akito," she whispered faintly.

In front of her, Kyo drew in a hiss of breath. "What the fuck _are_ you?" 

With slow, deliberate steps Akito stepped off the bridge of light and walked toward them, the small smile never leaving his face. Kyo grabbed hold of Tohru's arm and pushed her backward, keeping himself between her and the dark sorcerer. Only half-aware of Kyo's movements, Tohru desperately searched the pale, handsome face before her, but there was no hint at all of the Yuki she knew in the ice-gray slits and the cruel, little smile. 

Akito stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Stand aside, child of sorrow. I want to speak to her."

"The hell you do," Kyo snarled. "You're not getting anywhere near her."

Akito's eyes narrowed, and the next instant Kyo was flung aside by an invisible force, sending him flying backward several feet away. "Kyo-kun!" Tohru cried, then gasped and hunched over when the Sun Stone burst into flame inside her. Something brushed against her cheek, and to her shock the heat receded to a bearable level. She looked up and saw Akito standing closer to her, watching her through the faint blue rays radiating from her chest.

He gave her a sympathetic smile that was disturbingly at odds with the gleam in his eyes. "It hurts you, doesn't it? It burns when it goes out of control."

Tohru stared at him, speechless.

"Does it feel better now?" he asked solicitously. "I sent its power back. The Sun Stone isn't known for its mercy, you know. It is a weapon before anything else. It takes blood and authority to control the Stone, neither of which you have." He noticed the look on her face and chuckled. "Are you so surprised that I can control it? I _am_ the king's son, after all."

Tohru opened her mouth, but nothing came out. His voice hypnotized her, the soft, silky words coiling around her, rendering her immobile. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kyo pick himself up off the ground and charge at them again, shouting furiously, only to collide against an invisible wall. He staggered and scowled at the air, then began to beat his fists against the shield. She could barely hear his voice now. He sounded so far away.

Akito laughed again. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've been so rude. You've been my guest here for three days now, and I haven't even introduced myself." He stepped closer to her. "My name is Akito Sohma, and you are Tohru Honda, are you not? I'm pleased to have finally met you, Tohru Honda-san." 

Tohru struggled to breathe through a throat closed up with fear.

"Hmm," he murmured, eyeing her assessingly. "You _are_ pretty, aren't you? No wonder you have both dear Yuki and the child of sorrow so enthralled. It makes it all the more…convenient."

He stepped even closer to her, so close now she could feel the cold oiliness of his aura. The sensation made her skin crawl, but she couldn't move or even look away. He raised his hands and laid them upon her face, one running over her brow and cheek, the other sliding into her hair, mimicking Yuki's tender actions before. She tried to wrench away, unable to stop her body's reflexive response, but all she succeeded in doing was to jerk her head a little to one side. 

He cocked his head at her. "Why do you recoil, Tohru Honda-san? You didn't before. In fact—" he pressed even closer to her, bending his head to hers, his silky voice whispering now even inside her head "—let me show you just how close you wanted me to be."

__

No! She twisted aside, desperation lending her strength. Her gaze fell upon Kyo, whose fists still continued to pummel thin air, his rage not quite able to conceal his fear. Akito noticed their exchange, and his smile widened. "What's wrong, Tohru Honda-san? Cat got your tongue? Or…was it the mouse?" He reached out again and turned her face toward his. "Look at me," he crooned. "Show me the disgust you feel. You don't want me touching you. You don't want me near you. The truth is I sicken you, don't I?"

Her head moved feebly from side to side. "Yuki…kun." 

He froze.

"Let him go," she whispered faintly. 

He drew back, his hands falling away. "Please let them go," she pleaded, her voice gathering strength. "Please, Akito-san."

Ice-gray eyes narrowed, then he backhanded her viciously, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Before she could recover, he strode over to her and pulled her upright by her hair until she was kneeling in front of him, moaning and bleeding from her cut lip. "You don't know your place, Tohru Honda-san," he informed her in that same silky voice. "You don't matter. I do what I want, and I take what I want. _Anything_ I want." His other hand drifted down to rest between her breasts, right above the glowing outline of the Sun Stone. Her eyes shot wide open and she began to struggle in earnest, but the grip on her hair tightened even more. "I could take your life, if I wanted to," Akito went on almost conversationally. "Or I could take this instead."

His fingers dug into her chest, and Tohru threw her head back and screamed as the Sun Stone exploded. Streams of fire and blades of ice tore into her chest and raced through her body in wave upon wave of scorching, freezing agony as blue and white rays burst from her chest and her back. Akito's fingers continued to sink into her chest, and Tohru continued to scream even as her vision darkened and her mind floated upon a black, silent ocean. _I'm dying_, she thought as she drifted through empty space, listening to the tortured cries coming from a great distance. _I'm dying and Akito will get the Sun Stone. I'm sorry, Kyo-kun. I didn't mean for this to happen._

Then the pain stopped just as suddenly as it began. As her mind sank back into her ragged, aching body, she slowly opened her eyes to find Akito regarding her thoughtfully. She became dimly aware that she was still kneeling in front of him, and that the only thing keeping her upright was his hand in her hair, while the faint blue glow radiating from her chest told her that he had stopped trying to pull the Sun Stone out of her, which explained why she was still alive. She didn't know whether to be grateful for that or disappointed.

"How interesting," Akito murmured. "The Sun Stone has merged with your heart. It should have made things simpler for you, but then you don't know what that means, do you? That fool mage greatly overestimated you." 

He looked past her, and a cunning expression slid over his face. She managed to turn her head toward Kyo, who had ceased his furious battle with the shield and had fallen on his knees, white-faced with shock and horror. _I must look terrible_, she thought dazedly. _He's even forgotten to be angry now_. She looked up again into the extraordinarily beautiful face above her—the soft, silver hair, the pale skin, the iron-hard strength in his arm as he held her upright—and tears slid silently down her cheeks. "Yuki-kun," she begged desperately. "Yuki-kun, please come back."

Akito glanced down at her, and to her disbelief started to laugh. "'Come back?' But dear Yuki never left. He can't hide in his little snow-kingdom anymore. You've given Yuki back to me, Tohru Honda-san."

__

Then he saw everything, she realized, sinking even deeper into despair. _He saw me almost die. Oh Yuki-kun, I'm so sorry._

"But I tell you this, Tohru Honda-san," the dark sorcerer added softly. "You will not die by my hand." 

He threw her from him, and she collapsed in a heap almost right at Kyo's feet. The invisible barrier dropped at the same time, and Kyo ran over to her and lifted her up. "You all right?"

"Yes," she croaked.

He turned toward the figure in white, and Tohru shrank back from the murderous rage blazing in his eyes. "You sick bastard!" He launched himself at him, fists flashing at deadly speeds kick. Alarmed, Tohru could only watch as Kyo went berserk, a spinning, kicking, punching tornado almost faster than her eyes could follow, but Akito dodged every blow all too easily. Then in a single move, he sidestepped Kyo's next hit and punched him in the gut. There was a sickening thud of flesh hitting flesh, and Kyo toppled slowly backward, grunting with pain.

"Kyo-kun!" Tohru cried, rushing over to him. As if on cue, green lightning lashed at the stormclouds, cracking them open as the rains poured down from the sky.

The sheets of icy water parted, and Akito came to stand over them, looking completely dry and unruffled. "You lost again, Kyo of the Ashari. But then, we both know that a child of sorrow doesn't deserve to be trusted." 

Kyo glared at him through dripping bangs. "Shut up!" 

In reply, Akito held up his hand and a dagger appeared, spinning slowly end over end in the air above his palm. A dagger with a curved blade and a hilt shaped like a hawk's head. The dagger stopped spinning and shot downward, the blade burying itself into the ground inches away from Kyo's feet. Kyo visibly paled.

Tohru stared at the dagger, the wound in her left hand twinging in remembered pain. Then she lifted her eyes to Akito. "He won't do it. Kyo-kun is stronger than that."

Kyo glanced sharply at her.

Akito merely smiled. "Run." 

Through the curtains of rain the shadows surrounding them shifted, gathered together and reformed, and from the pools of darkness figures began to emerge. Immense figures, with sharp-fanged skulls and glistening red flesh stretched over bony spikes and long arms that ended in dagger-like claws. Tohru whimpered, and as if in agreement, the Sun Stone's light blazed brighter.

"Shit," Kyo cursed. "Tower guardians."

They were surrounded by nearly a dozen tower guardians, each one with the clear intent to kill. Without another word, Kyo scrabbled up, grabbed her hand and pulled her through an opening in the circle of demons. The icy drops pounded at them through their clothes and rendered them half-blind, but Tohru could still hear the heavy thudding of massive clawed feet as the demons gave chase. They fled down the shore, thinking to head for the relative safety of the clearing, but skidded to a halt when more tower guardians appeared ahead of them, blocking their path.

"Shit!" Kyo spat again, turning round and round as he searched frantically for a way out. Tohru faced the advancing demons and raised her hand, ready to summon the power of the Sun Stone, only to find her arm snatched back. "Idiot!" Kyo snapped. "You want that thing to try and kill you again?" He set his jaw and turned toward the forest. "Dammit! We've got no choice."

Grasping her hand again, he plunged into the forest, dragging Tohru behind him. The canopy of leaves spared them from the worse of the rain's pelting blows, but the feeling of malevolent watchfulness became almost overwhelming. The light from the agitated Sun Stone cast an eerie blue haze about the damp murkiness, illuminating each root and gnarled branch and strangling vine they passed. Glowing red eyes followed their progress from the boughs and behind treetrunks, but none of the forest monsters attacked, warned off by the light of the Sun Stone. _Or too cowed by the presence of the tower guardians_, Tohru thought, hearing the crashing noises behind them over her harsh panting breaths. "Where're we going?" she gasped.

"To the barriers." 

"Do—do you know the way?"

Kyo paused for a moment, scanned the trees, then set off again. Even with her fear-induced energy rush, she had to struggle to keep up with his pace, slipping often on the wet ground and wincing whenever a branch snagged her hair or scratched at her face, but Kyo didn't slow down, and Tohru was grateful for his hand around hers which kept her from falling flat on her face several times. "I remember bits and pieces," he answered. "I…think I've been here before."

His voice sounded tight, as if he couldn't believe he actually had a reason to be grateful for his curse. Tohru's foot caught in a root and with a soft cry she fell, sparks of pain shooting up her ankle. Kyo cursed again and bent to untangle her foot, and Tohru laid a hand on his shoulder. "Kyo-kun, listen," she said urgently. "I can't hear them anymore, can you?"

Kyo cocked his head. Sure enough, the crashing noises had faded away, and the forest resumed its baleful silence. The exhaustion hit them, and he sat down heavily upon a root beside her, wiping at the sweat and water running into his eyes. Tohru was silent as she massaged her ankle, but Kyo noticed her expression and turned away.

"Oy, did you mean it?" he said gruffly. 

"Eh?" He moved his head to say 'forget it', but Tohru remembered. "That you're stronger than Akito says you are? Yes, I did. I believe it, Kyo-kun."

He glowered at her from underneath his bangs, then looked away again. "Stop looking like that."

"L-like what?"

"Like a little girl who's lost her favorite doll. He couldn't help you. That fucking bastard Akito is just too strong." He shrugged at her surprised expression, though he still wouldn't meet her gaze. "I could hear everything. You were calling for that damned mouse. You do a really lousy job of picking who to trust," he ended in a barely audible mutter.

"No." She moved so that she was crouching in front of him and looking into his face. "No, I didn't make a mistake. I trust Yuki-kun, just as I trust you, Kyo-kun. I won't believe I could be wrong about you. It's just this curse and this place and—and Akito. There must be a way to set you free. Maybe in Ryuukama they'll know what to do, and when I find out, I'll come back for you. I promise."

Kyo blinked, taken aback by her speech. "I don't want to leave you behind, but I have to," she went on, tears clogging up her throat. "I'm so scared, Kyo-kun. I'm scared I might not ever see any of you again."

"I'm coming with you."

"Eh?"

"As far as the barriers, if I can." His eyes looked at everything except her, but even in the wan light of the Sun Stone the blush on his cheeks was visible. "Even if it's that damned Yuki you really want. I won't let you be alone in this place."

Tohru took his hands in hers, forcing him to finally look at her. "Thank you, Kyo-kun," she whispered, smiling at him.

Instead of smiling back, he shoved her away from him, yelling "Watch out!" She tumbled backward, and a huge clawed limb shot out and buried itself in the space where she'd been kneeling. The rest of the demon oozed out of the darkness, followed by its companions. Kyo yelled again, dodged another incoming blow, and ran over to her. 

"That was quite touching, child of sorrow," the dreaded voice called out from above them. Akito was lounging on a branch, his back to the tree trunk and one leg dangling in the air. "If you'd been that charming from the beginning, you might have stood a chance against my little brother for once."

The tower guardians closed in around the two, and Kyo and Tohru were nearly backed up against a tree. "Shut up!" Kyo raged at him. "Quit toying with us, you fucking coward!"

Akito's smile turned predatory. "In due time, child of sorrow. Now run." 

The demons moved again, but the two remained frozen. "_I said run!_" Akito screamed, wild-eyed. "_I want to see you run!_"

Another clawed limb swung toward them. Kyo and Tohru threw themselves out of the way at the last minute, and instead of decapitating them, the sickle-like claw sliced the tree neatly in half. They stumbled into the darkness again, their entire universe narrowed down to the rain, the forest, their burning lungs and bursting hearts, and always, the crushing presence of Akito and his demons behind. Tohru fought to keep up, trying to ignore the stabs of pain in her ankle and the rising heat in her chest, trusting in Kyo to lead the way although she herself could see nothing past the blue circle of light the Sun Stone cast. Finally they came to a less dense part of the forest, a roughly circular patch of mud a fraction of the size of the clearing near the lake. It was ringed by enormous spiny-looking trees except for one side, which ended abruptly in a deep chasm. Kyo stopped, and the frustration on his face told the entire story. They were lost. 

"Kyo-kun?" Tohru tried haltingly.

He kicked at a clod of dirt, which vanished in the rain. "Fucking hellhole!" 

"Kyo-kun, they'll hear us."

"They can smell us, idiot!" he snapped. "They can smell our fear."

Tohru clutched at his arm, eyeing the darkness warily. "What do we do now?"

Kyo opened his mouth to answer, but a greenish glow melting out of the line of trees caught their attention. The green light grew bigger then Akito stepped out, the rain once again parting for him. He circled them leisurely, ice-gray eyes glinting with amusement at the way Kyo pushed Tohru behind him, his entire pose screaming defiance and fury—and fear.

He raised an eyebrow at the red-haired boy. "Well? Answer the question, child of sorrow. What do you do now? Do you stand and fight? Do you keep running? There's nowhere else to run, you know. This is the edge of the forest. There's nothing beyond but empty space. This is where it all ends, so hurry up and think of something new."

Kyo growled, a raw, inarticulate sound of pure rage. _He's goading him_, Tohru realized. _Akito's trying to get him to attack. And why does he keep calling him the child of sorrow?_

Akito tsked mildly. "You really are so stupid. Why don't you stop wasting time and do what you've been sent here to do? Or don't you want your freedom anymore?"

Tohru froze as Yuki's voice drifted into her mind. _Akito set all sorts of impossible conditions for his release. Freedom is what Kyo desires most of all, and Akito knows this._

"Screw your 'freedom', you lying conjurer," Kyo returned, but Tohru didn't miss the way his body stiffened. 

"Why are you being so obstinate?" Akito went on, sounding like a patient father lecturing an unruly son. "Murder should be easy for you. After all, you've done it before."

The gasp slipped out before Tohru could stifle it. Kyo began to tremble. Akito missed none of it. "I see Tohru Honda-san is confused by all this. Go on, child of sorrow. Explain it to her. Tell her how it feels to murder the person you should have revered more than life itself. Tell her how your own flesh and blood rejected you, how your very existence drove your own mother to her death. Tell her about your curse, child of sorrow. Tell her what you really are."

Tohru expected Kyo to lose all control at that point, but the red-haired boy didn't move. He stood with his head bowed and his arms hanging limply at his sides, as if Akito's words had drained away all his vitality. The sight of her fiery-spirited friend looking so defeated drove her to the point of absolute recklessness. "Stop!" she cried, coming out to stand in front of Kyo with her arms raised as if to shield him. "Stop this, please! Leave him alone!"

Akito merely looked at her.

"I don't care what he is or what he might have done," she continued despite Akito's frigid silence. "Don't do this to him. Please, Akito-san."

"Tohru," Kyo breathed, completely stunned.

Then Akito began to laugh. He wrapped his hands around his stomach and laughed and laughed, the sound chilling her inside and out. "You really are such good friends, aren't you?" he said. "It's wonderful that someone like him could have such a sweet girl caring for him." He raised his right hand in the air then closed his fist. Kyo choked. Tohru whirled around just in time to see the red-haired boy rise into the air, his arms and legs twitching erratically as if he were struggling against an invisible chain binding him from head to foot. He drifted toward Akito until he hovered between him and Tohru a few feet above the ground, his crimson eyes rolling wildly, his throat working desperately. Tohru shrieked and tried to make a grab for him, but for some reason her own body refused to obey her.

"Well then, child of sorrow," Akito said brightly, ice-gray eyes alight with unholy anticipation. "Why don't we just _show_ her what you really are?"

His left hand lifted to the level of Kyo's head, green light flaring from his outstretched fingers, and slashed downward through the air. There was an odd tinkling sound, as if a hundred tiny glass balls had spilled onto a marble floor somewhere very far away, then tendrils of black smoke began to wrap around the paralyzed form. Kyo twisted his head toward Tohru, his face contorted with panic even as the crimson irises began to change.

He opened his mouth and screamed. 

"_DON'T LOOK!_"


	29. Book 2, Chapter 36

* - * - *

__

"What the hell's the 'san' for?"

"It's an honorific—"

"Well, drop the damned honorific. It's disgusting. I already said I'm not a prince."

"I'm sorry. How about 'Kyo-kun' then? It's a bit less formal than 'san.'"

"All right, 'Kyo-kun,' whatever makes you happy, just quit making a big deal out of my name." 

"Thank you, Kyo-kun. My name's Tohru Honda."

The storm roared as rain pounded the earth, lashing at her face and blinding her, but Tohru didn't look away.

__

"I don't know why you people keep seeing magic everywhere. Healing has nothing to do with sorcery. If I seem to know stuff it's because I used to hang around an old healer in our village so I picked up a few things. But almost anyone can heal others. I bet even you can."

"Really? Do you really think I can, Kyo-kun? Would you show me?"

"Sure. Here, I'll show you how to do a simple technique."

The shadows writhed. The air turned sharp, nauseating, and the gorge rose in her throat in response. But still Tohru didn't look away. 

__

"You've got to get away from here. Before anything else happens to you. Find a way to get out of this forest. Use the Sun Stone if you have to, just get as far away from this place as you can."

Akito was laughing, somewhere. She could feel him coming closer. But still Tohru didn't look away. She couldn't look away.

__

"I'm coming with you."

"Eh?"

"As far as the barriers, if I can. Even if it's that damned Yuki you really want. I won't let you be alone in this place."

The memories scattered like leaves in a hurricane, mocking her, tearing her apart while her frozen gaze remained upon the thrashing, keening form before her. Kyo had changed. The boy she knew was melting away right before her eyes. Once-human legs were growing longer, splitting the breeches he wore, the toes splaying out, sprouting claws. The arms extended, thickened, more like trunks of trees now than human arms, ending also in lethal-looking claws. His body stretched and elongated until the black shirt was torn apart, the bones jutting out over skin that rippled and changed, growing scalier, darkening into a reptilian shade of green. His head lengthened and grew sharper, his red hair vanishing, to be replaced by more scales and two long flaps like a dragon's ears, the eyes fading into glowing yellow slits, his jaws opening wide to reveal rows and rows of dagger-like teeth. The desolate cry of a human being on the brink of insanity was transformed into the dissonant, high-pitched shriek of a maddened beast, but not any beast Tohru had ever known. The sonics grated against her skull, making her want to scream along with it. Making her want to flee to the ends of the earth from it.

__

Monster! The words ripped through her mind, harsh and jagged. _That's not Kyo-kun. It couldn't be, couldn't be, couldn't be…_

She didn't even realize that she'd begun to move backward until a pair of hands caught her shoulders, breaking her trance-like stare. A pale, handsome face smiled down at her. "Repulsive, isn't he? And to think you've been spending your nights with him, talking to him, even sleeping near him,"Akito remarked casually. "In case you're wondering, that _is_ Kyo. That's the curse he bore long before he came here. That hideous thing is the true form of a child of sorrow."

She gazed up into pitiless gray eyes, and the sense of horror nearly choked her. _You're a monster too!_ the demented voice screeched inside her. _Stay away from me! You're not Yuki-kun. You and that—that thing, monsters, the both of you! _

"Here he comes," Akito announced. "He'll kill you now. When he's like this there's no reasoning with him. He'll remember everything, though. Oh by the way, in this form, he doesn't need a dagger to kill you."

There was an ear-splitting roar, and Akito vanished. Instinct made her jump aside, and a second later the gigantic reptile's claws scored the earth where she'd been standing. She landed sprawled full-length on the ground and began to scrabble desperately away, fingers and legs digging for purchase in the mud until she managed to grab hold of a tree root and haul herself upright. She turned and looked up into the massive lizard-head above her, and with another ferocious bellow, the monster lifted its arm again and brought it downward in a crushing blow. She dove between its legs, and rolled away before the shattered tree trunk could crash on top of her and finish her off. Jumping up, she darted toward the other side of the circle, then turned and raised both hands.

Nothing happened.

"That won't work," Akito said from his perch on the branch of the tallest tree. "Not as long as I'm here. I do need the child of sorrow alive, Tohru Honda-san. What I don't need is you."

Shaking, Tohru lowered her hands and moaned. Yaori help her, she'd been ready to kill. It didn't matter that the Sun Stone didn't work. She would have summoned the fire in a heartbeat and let it consume the monster in front of her, without a thought to what she was doing. No, not a monster. This was Kyo. Somewhere inside this horrid, vicious creature was Kyo—Kyo, who'd been trying to protect her, whom she had wanted to save. No matter what happened, she couldn't destroy him. 

She looked up, and a maul-like arm came flying from out of nowhere and slammed into her, sending her hurtling into the very tree Akito was sitting in. The air fled her lungs as she slid to the ground, every bone in her body screaming with pain. Something warm was streaming down the side of her face; she didn't have to look at it to see that it was blood. Another roar, and this time she didn't wait but forced herself up, running for the other side of the ridiculously small clearing. She wasn't fast enough to escape the paw that was reaching out for her, and a claw snagged the back of her dress. There was a tearing sound and fire raced down her back, but she managed to stumble away, barely able to stop herself from tumbling right over the edge of the chasm. 

She stood up shakily and faced them, the monster Kyo had become and the monster Yuki had become. They stood together, the inhumanly beautiful silver-haired boy and the inhumanly loathsome lizard-demon, slaves and prisoners of the same evil. She gazed at them, malicious caricatures of the two very special boys she had met in a cursed forest, one of whom she loved as a long-lost brother, the other she loved as only her soul can love, and despite the pain from her wounds and the agony of a possibly broken rib, it was the breaking of her heart that hurt the most.

"Kyo-kun," she called, her tears mingling with the rain. "Kyo-kun, don't do this. This isn't you. No matter what he says, this isn't the real you. I still believe in you. I always will."

Akito shook his head. "You can do better than that, Tohru Honda-san. You should get down on your knees when you beg for your life."

She looked up at him, at the face that for one precious moment had belonged to the person she would have given her life to. "Yuki-kun. I know you can hear me. Remember who you are, Yuki-kun. Remember how strong you are. Don't let him make you forget."

"Shut up!" Akito suddenly shrieked, gray eyes flaring madly. "Stop calling for him! He's mine, you stupid bitch!"

Tohru fell on her knees as an unseen force lashed at her, tearing little curving wounds along her arms as she attempted to shield her face. "Yuki-kun!" she cried out.

The gigantic lizard-demon growled and attacked, but instead of charging at her, it turned and slashed all five claws at Akito's tree. With a groan, the tree trunk shivered and toppled slowly, filling her world as it headed straight for her. Her eyes widened, and she threw herself out of the way—

—and with a scream fell headlong into the darkness.

Her body slammed against a rock, bounced off another incline, and went into a free-fall until it felt as if she were flying through empty space. She closed her eyes, letting the emptiness fill her until all that was left was the memory of Yuki and Kyo and the bitter regret that she would die having failed them. The Sun Stone flared to life with its typical ill-timing, but she barely noticed. _What would it matter now, anyway?_ she thought dully. _I'd failed everyone again. Yuki-kun, Kyo-kun, Rit-chan. Poor Kisa-san, who was waiting in vain for me. Nothing I do ever turns out right. Maybe—maybe it's better this way._

__

The important thing is to choose to live, her mother seemed to whisper, and Tohru drifted into blessed unconsciousness.


	30. Book 2, Chapter 37

* - * - *

The little brown piglet had been restless all day. She watched him as he got up yet again from his spot near the gate and went around snuffling around every rock and bush he could find, making soft, mournful grunts in the back of his throat. He would gaze off longingly in the direction of the ravine that led into the Deadlands, then come back and do his rounds again before settling back into his spot, only to get up a few minutes later and repeat the process. It was getting annoying.

She sat atop the roof of the cave they had been living in for the past week and brooded. _Cave, hah!_ she snorted. It had been little more than a hole in the ground when they first came here, and she'd been convinced that no amount of extravagant endorsement on the part of the mage could ever transform it into anything but a dank, shallow hole in the ground. Still, after she'd done a bit of digging and clearing, and after she'd set up the fence to keep out the occasional monster that strayed out of the Deadlands, the cave served its purpose fairly well. In fact, after covering the pile of straw that served as her bed with a pretty red flower-patterned sheet—provided by the mage, and she didn't want to know where exactly he'd gotten the sheet in the first place—and adding a ring of colorful stones around the fireplace, at times the cave looked downright cozy.

Then again, after she'd gone and wrecked their last hut yet again, she supposed she shouldn't complain. At least the cave had walls that didn't immediately collapse around their ears after a few measly punches.

She tugged her yellow hairbob off, ran her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair a few times, and with a sigh pulled her hair back off her face and retied the hairbob at the back of her head. She'd purchased the hairbob at the last village after that supposed sighting of Kyo, thinking that since she'd be seeing him soon she ought to look her best for him, but like every other rumor she'd stumbled upon, it turned out to be absolute nonsense. She'd been searching for months—traveling everywhere, talking to everyone, following every hint of an Ashari exploration party led by a red-haired boy to the bitter and often nonexistent end—and it was only around three weeks ago that she'd finally heard something that could possibly yield results. Or at least, had yet to prove itself another dead-end.

Even though this story sounded even more fantastical than all the other rumors combined.

But then, something about the mage told her that, in this at least, he was deadly serious. Which was saying a lot, since plenty about the mage was difficult for anyone to take seriously. She'd met him, of all places, at a village fair trying to sell ointments and potions of a dubious nature to a crowd that seemed to consist predominantly of furtive-looking men and giggling women. She hung behind the crowd, curious to see if he would actually succeed in selling something, realizing later that curiosity was probably what had drawn the crowd in the first place. Really, the man was a walking sideshow. He spotted her immediately, and what followed next was the most embarrassing introduction she'd ever had the misfortune to be involved in, but as time passed she learned to be grateful for the mage's company. It made her journey more interesting, although she still cringed at the idea of going into public places with him.

But the mage had a story to tell, and while his story was at times dark and horrible and too ludicrous to be believed, she had to admit that everything she'd seen only served to prove him right. She'd avoided the cities and larger towns with religious care, and so had only heard third and fourth-hand accounts of the trouble Mizaka was getting from a group of rebels styling themselves as Ashari. She herself was Ashari, and she knew her people would avoid the city like the plague until they knew they were strong enough to take on a port city with its armies of guards, so she had to wonder who those Ashari were who dared take on Mizaka. The villages were crawling with rumors about Kyo having been killed by Mizakan soldiers and the Ashari now out for revenge, and she'd suffered weeks of heartbreak and despair until she could sift the truth from fiction. And then the mage appeared, and the truth was suddenly right in front of her, spinning crazily out of her hands.

She couldn't deny it, though. She'd seen too much during her travels to go on blinding herself to the truth. Demon attacks and sorcery, cursed forests and monsters. There were fewer and fewer village fairs now; everyone was afraid, and strangers could not enter a village and expect a warm welcome set out for them. Except for the mage and her pet pig, she'd traveled alone for the past months, managing to cross the Deadlands into the fringes of the western lands by joining up with a caravan, the last caravan that ever made it through the miserable poisoned desert. Sometimes she could even feel the air tingling with a strange, restless power, as if some unknown wind was changing. Sometimes it felt as if her nerves were sizzling from it.

She sighed. Honestly, she didn't need any mysterious powerful forces to make her nerves sizzle; she'd been feeling nearly as restive as her piglet lately. After he'd helped her settle in her new home, the mage had disappeared for parts unknown as was his wont, leaving behind a warning to watch and wait. _Watch and wait for what?_ she'd wanted to know, but his answers had bewildered her even more. Something about curses and magic stones and people crossing barriers. She'd shrugged and agreed, and since then had taken to climbing to the edge of the ravine overlooking the Deadlands twice a day, scanning the bleak horizon for caravans in distress. She didn't bother to look toward the dark line of the cursed forest; nobody ever got out of there alive anyway.

She'd already finished her morning patrol and was now lounging on top of her cave, feeling bored and restless and increasingly annoyed with her one remaining companion, who was now investigating the fence, sniffing morosely. "_Ne_, Keero, knock it off," she grumbled. "Nothing's happened in the past few days and you know it."

"Bwee," the piglet retorted, looking at her as if she'd just told him to go climb a tree. He trotted around in a circle, stopped at the gate and began scratching at it with a small hoof. His mistress sighed and jumped down. "All right, why don't we just go hunt for mushrooms and get rid of all this excess energy? Hmm," she added thoughtfully. "Rabbit stew for dinner does sound like a nice idea. Assuming we get that lucky, of course."

She went back into the cave and emerged a few minutes later with her hunting bow slung across her back and the dark Mizakan cloak draped around her shoulders. A hunting dagger was strapped around her thigh, while at her belt hung a pouch of small metallic balls filled with black powder that exploded like fireworks when thrown, a gift from the mage. Of course, like everything else that came from the mage, the balls were dazzling works of art in themselves—painted in a rainbow of colors and a few even had sequins and laces glued to them. A small sack for the mushrooms completed her attire. Months ago, she'd have scoffed at the idea of going out so heavily armed in order to hunt for mushrooms, but her travels through apparently deserted houses and villages and at the edges of the cursed forest, not to mention her rather harrowing caravan trip through the Deadlands had taught her that with all these monsters and demons running about, there was no such thing as 'heavily armed.' 

She opened the gate and Keero trotted on ahead of her. Instead of heading toward the woods, he immediately made a beeline for the ravine as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. "Keero!" she called, hurrying after her piglet. 

She found him fairly dancing at the edge of the ravine, grunting softly. "See? I told you there was nothing," she said, shading her eyes against the sun to gaze across the rippling expanse of the Deadlands.

"Bwee!" Keero rolled his eyes at his mistress' obtuseness. She had opened her mouth to comment on the un-boarlike attitude he was giving her when she saw it. 

At the shadowy edge of the cursed forest. The looming, impenetrable barrier of trees had always been dark, but this time the blackness seemed to have come alive. The trees bulged and writhed and blazed with green lightning and streams of blue fire, almost as if something was trying to escape the forest and the forest was fighting like mad to hold it back. There was a low roaring coming out of the ground, and to her suddenly edgy imagination, it sounded like a noise made by a tiger that was trying to give birth to a dragon.

"Bwee!" 

She shook her head, mesmerized by the sight. "N-no, Keero. If something's trying to come out of the cursed forest, then I don't want to be around to find out what it—Keero, come back!"

The little brown piglet was already half-way down the steep, rocky incline, picking his way with dainty albeit hurried steps. She slapped her hand against her forehead and muttered something about stubborn, pig-headed creatures, then followed him down the incline and into the Deadlands. 

"Stay close to me," she told the piglet as they hiked through the rocks and black brambles and foul-smelling mud-holes. She'd unslung her bow and notched an arrow, watching warily for monsters, but Keero showed no such apprehension and trotted determinedly toward the twisting, groaning darkness. Thankfully the cursed forest wasn't too far away; water was something she didn't think to bring when she'd decided to hunt for mushrooms, but if whatever was coming out of that ominous place was in any way dangerous, then she and Keero would probably be needing more than water within the next hour or so.

As they drew closer, the ripples of power grew stronger, impacting with her body in almost physical blows and making her mind reel at the intensity of it. There seemed to be two different powers fighting each other, and the struggle was ferocious. Dark tentacles lashed out and struck the ground as shafts of white light and jets of blue fire tore at it from a point a few feet above the ground. They moved as close as they dared to the maelstrom, and even Keero had fallen silent, staring up with wide brown eyes. She lifted her bow and took aim with a steadiness that was astonishing considering that her insides were quivering like leaves in a storm, and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. There was another dull, furious roar, then the air itself seemed to split apart. Blinding blue-white rays exploded through the gap, making her gasp and shield her eyes instinctively. Realizing her error, she twisted aside in case something tried to take advantage of her momentary blindness, but then the blue-white light faded and the waves of power dropped to a tolerable level. Something moaned weakly—something that at least sounded human, and she lowered her arms and blinked.

A girl in a tattered brown smock lay several feet away from the line of trees, where she'd apparently rolled to a stop. She looked very ill-used. Long, chestnut hair lay matted against her head, glistening with the same blood that covered nearly one side of her face and stained the back of her dress, which hung open in a large, jagged tear. All along her arms were little cuts shaped like half-moons, as if somebody with especially sharp nails had ripped into her. The girl was deathly pale and barely breathing. All in all, it was hard to imagine a person who could be in worse shape than her.

She crept cautiously over to the prone figure then knelt beside her to turn her over, but stopped when the girl moaned again. Dull sea-blue eyes opened and tried to focus, then the swollen, blood-stained lips moved. "Yuki…kun," she whispered, then her eyes drifted shut again.

Her own ash-brown eyes widened, and suddenly Kagura understood what the mage had tried to tell her. With a shaking hand she brushed back the chestnut bangs, then as carefully as she could, lifted the girl and slung her over her back piggy-back style, the limp, bruised arms hanging over her shoulders. The movement must have jolted the girl awake, judging from the thready whisper right at her ear.

"It's all right," she murmured softly, praying that none of the monsters chose that moment to attack. "You're safe now, Tohru-kun. I've been waiting for you for a long time."

-------------------------------------

Author's Notes:

Boy, that was draining. I rushed through this all weekend, and finally I can step back a bit and catch up with the rest of my life. Thank you so much to all of you who read and reviewed (and, er, forgave me for the cliff-hanger back there): Linay, cyjj, shardingtoby, anime26angel, C.B., Mistress RinRin, bubblegum koala girl (sorry, I guess my evil-ness has been slipping, huh? ^_^;), babyblu, Aisha, xxxholic, Gemini1, and R Junkie (you write a damn good fic yourself, I'm honored, really).

Er, an apology, though. I really tried to keep the characters in character, although I had a hell of a time with Akito and it shows too, but I confess that the action scenes were inspired mostly by Slayers and Inuyasha. Oh, and Diablo II. (I'm too chicken to fight Diablo, but at least I can write about him from a safe distance). Sorry if the characters are OOC. I'll work at it in the next chapters.

Oh yeah, Book 2 is officially over. Coming up next: **Book 3: Black Queen, White Queen**. Please continue to read and review, minna-san! ^___^


	31. Book 3, Chapter 38

**__**

Book Three: Black Queen, White Queen

He stood in the middle of the room, waiting. The flame from the lone candle flickered occasionally, stirred by a draft slipping in through the cracks between the wall and the ceiling. The dim yellow light cast shadows upon the walls, making the bricks appear larger than they seemed until he could almost picture them shaking loose and crashing upon him, burying him alive. In the silence of the room, it was not difficult to imagine the low rumbling deep within the earth, the ominous prelude to a slow, crushing death.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a shuddering breath. It was true, then. Solitary confinement did scramble a man's wits until he could barely tell which end was up. He took in his depressingly austere surroundings: a narrow bed covered with a thin blanket, a bedside table upon which sat a basin, a rag, a pitcher of water and the white stub of a candle, a wooden chair beside the bed, and nothing else. Not "buried," perhaps. More "entombed," really, which was hardly an improvement. He thought back to his own bedroom at home, which consisted of—well, a bed, a table and a chair, since he spent most of his waking hours in his study anyway, but the point was that he _could_ have been standing in a luxurious marble and pinewood bedchamber with carpeted floors and a bed the size of a small yacht and draped with enough satin to outfit a ladies' club, while outside the door was an army of servants ready to cater to his every whim.

He sighed. He must really be in bad shape if he'd started to think about the Manor with anything other than relief at having escaped its tasteless opulence and its inhabitants' insipid airs and chronic self-preoccupation. His life at the Manor felt like glimpses of somebody else's dream, especially since his reality had boiled down to a cramped cell, a bed, a table and a chair.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the tangled strands stick up even more, then winced as a bolt of pain shot through his right shoulder at the motion. Frowning, he fingered the bandage wrapped around his chest, the same bandages that adorned his forehead, and tried to sort out the hazy jumble of images and memories in his mind. The effort made his head spin, and he reached out blindly for the back of the chair to keep himself from pitching over. _Steady_, he told himself. _No sudden moves. You don't want to upchuck your breakfast, do you? _

Then again, maybe if he did, he'd finally remember what exactly he'd had for breakfast in the first place.

A busted shoulder, a cracked skull and a concussion to boot. And here he was, locked in a dank cell in Akkan knows where, too muddle-headed to concentrate on a single thought for long, much less reach out to his contacts and call for help, and even if he could he'd still be unable to give them any clue as to his whereabouts. Somewhere within the Outer City, he assumed. Some place built with gray stone, although that would have described half of Mizaka. And if that wasn't bad enough, he was completely at the mercy of people who'd been tagged as ruthless criminals and bloodthirsty rebels and who, despite what had happened in the marketplace, had no reason at all to feel friendly toward him. For the first time in his adult life, he was completely helpless. It was a novel experience, and one he would much rather do without.

He could hear the faint sound of footsteps and the low muttering of voices from outside his cell. The latch clicked as a key was inserted in, and the thick, steel door creaked open. Despite his slight wooziness, he smiled a little, already guessing who his visitor was. Straightening his shoulders as far as his wound allowed him, Shigure turned to face his jailer.

He caught a glimpse of dark eyes in a pale face from the depths of a black hooded cloak as she walked into the room, moving as silently as a passing shadow. At the doorway, he could see other similarly cloaked figures—his prison guards, judging from their flinty expressions, uncompromising burliness and the glints of steel at their waists. One of the guards was smaller and much younger-looking than the others, and disconcertingly familiar to Shigure. Noticing his stare, the guard pushed back his hood, revealing longish black hair tied back in a ponytail, a face with a scar on the left cheek and a similar pair of dark eyes, which looked less rabidly fanatical than the last time Shigure had seen them. In fact, poker-face aside, the guard had a distinctly sheepish air about him. 

"Sorry, Sohma-san," the young guard spoke up. "I got the cigarettes like you asked but the Lady caught me and took them away."

Shigure, who had been called by friends and enemies alike as the man who was rarely ever caught by surprise, could only blink at that statement.

The willowy figure in the black cloak gave a barely audible sigh. "Leave us, Megumi. Sohma-san and I have to talk."

Megumi bowed and closed the door behind her, leaving her alone in the cell with Shigure. Under any other circumstances, Shigure would have been grinning from ear to ear at the chance to spend any amount of time in a bedroom with a mysterious, lovely young girl, but he was too busy being distracted by the odd quality of said girl's voice. It was soft, almost a whisper, and stripped bare of any inflection, but it carried through the air and lingered in the mind nonetheless, a strange, hypnotic sound that was both youthful and wise. He became aware that minutes had passed and neither of them had said a word, despite her announcing their need to talk. If anything, she appeared to be waiting for him to finish his scrutiny and come to his senses. 

He forced his aching brain to come up with something to say to her. "Er, cigarettes?"

"You asked my brother to buy you cigarettes this morning," she explained in that sigh-of-the-wind voice of hers. 

"I did?" He couldn't remember that one. Probably fell into the same hole his recollection of breakfast had dropped into. 

"There are faster ways to get yourself killed, Sohma-san. You should know that by now."

Shigure gaped. This bizarre, emotionless creature, who need only give the order to have those guards of hers hack his head off or worse, could probably fry him right where he stood and save her guards the trouble, was chiding him about the dangers of _smoking?_ "That's all right," his mouth replied before the rest of him could catch up. "I like taking the scenic route."

__

You are not a prisoner here, Sohma-san.

This time, the voice spoke directly into his head, accompanied by the familiar sensation of a mind touching another mind. The gentle psychic contact made his head throb, and he closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively, trying his best not to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of her. Why her opinion of him should matter was something he didn't have the energy to figure out at the moment. "Uh, listen," he muttered thickly, "much as I enjoy this intimacy between us, could we dispense with the mind-talk for the moment?"

She gazed at him silently, then nodded. "Perhaps you should sit down, Sohma-san."

Suddenly reminded of his manners, he offered her the chair then moved gingerly toward the bed and sat down, careful to keep his sigh of relief to himself. Something about the sight of the black-clad figure sitting at his bedside triggered more memories, and he dug his fingers into the sheet against the waves of dizziness. "You took care of me, didn't you?" he said when the lightheadedness passed. "I seem to remember lying in this bed and you hovering over me with a rag."

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Four days. You had a fever for most of that time. You're lucky to be alive, Sohma-san."

"A fever?" No wonder his throat felt so parched when he woke up. He also recalled feeling terribly cold, as if somebody had cracked open his bones and packed them with snow. He cast back even further, remembering the chaos at the marketplace. His two cousins were there, as was Tohru's tall, overprotective blonde friend and Tohru herself. The guards had nearly caught them just before they could reach the caravan, then Megumi and his cloaked warriors had come and the melee began in earnest. Then Tohru was snatched away from him. He was fighting his way to her and had almost reached her when Tohru…exploded.

He frowned again, remembering the waves of fiery blue and white light that surged through him, streaming from the dark-haired girl he'd been trying to get to, and the insane vertigo that followed. And after that, things got a bit foggy.

"You were closest to that first blast of power," his nurse-cum-jailer explained, as if she'd read his mind which, to his disgruntlement, might not be so far off the mark. "You were flung against a wall and a stall fell on top of you. Remarkably enough, you still managed to get up and tell your cousins to rescue the Princess and escape before you fell unconscious. It was sheer luck that Megumi got to you before the city guards did. You were rather badly injured, Sohma-san."

"I must have cracked my head hard on that wall." Which was why his brain was all bruised up.

"Not only that. You and your cousins are sensitive to magic but unaccustomed to dealing with power of that magnitude. Your inner senses are still recovering from the shock they received, but you'll be fine in another day or so."

So, it's been four days since. He opened his mouth to ask where he was exactly and how long she planned to keep him here. "Were you the one who undressed me, too?"

Oops. That, he hadn't intended to ask, but now that the question was out in the open, so to speak… He glanced down meaningfully at his sore, bandaged and otherwise nude body, clad only in the well-worn brown robe he'd found hanging neatly on the back of the chair, then looked back up at the hooded figure in front of him, and grinned.

"Yes," she answered, without even batting a figurative eyelash.

His grin widened. "So that makes us even, then."

"Sohma-san, undressing a psychic projection is not the same as undressing an actual physical body," she pointed out in her soft monotone. "Your clothes were filthy, bloodstained and hopelessly torn. You also badly needed a bath, and you still do, I'm afraid. We did what we could, but it required stripping you of your garments."

Well, that put him in his place. 'Badly needed a bath,' indeed. "_Maa_, considering how well you know me by now, don't you think we could do with a little less formality then?" When she didn't answer, he sighed and elaborated: "You've already seen much more of me than even _I_ usually allow on a first acquaintance. It doesn't seem fair that all I can see of you is your nose and a bit of your chin."

After a brief moment of hesitation, her hands lifted and pushed back her hood, revealing a pale, delicate face framed by rippling masses of raven hair, setting off a pair of eyes the darkest possible shade of blue—or gray or violet, Shigure couldn't decide. She looked surprisingly young, around Tohru's age, and not at all what he'd expected a witch and a rebel leader who answered to the incongruous title of "Lady" would look. As he continued to stare at her, the impassive dark eyes grew marginally less impassive and slightly archer. He smiled, already finding something to like about his situation. "Well now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" 

"Sohma-san, is this really necessary?"

He leaned back and lifted an admonishing finger. "Ah-ah. 'Sohma-san' is my uncle, and I doubt you've ever undressed _him_ and taken care of him so tenderly in his time of need. You can call me 'Shigure,' you know."

"We have more important matters to discuss."

"Of course, you could return the favor and tell me your name," he went on, blithely ignoring her attempts to steer the conversation. "'Lady' is a bit too dignified for me. It sounds like one of those fat society matrons who go around in flocks and gossip about everyone, don't you think?"

She gave him another inscrutable look, which was probably the equivalent of an exasperated frown for normal people. _My name is Saki Hanajima_, she answered, her voice going straight to his head without passing through his ears. _You've met my brother, Megumi. That's all you need to know for the moment, Shigure-san._

His still-oversensitized brain spasmed at the psychic connection. "_Ite_," he groaned, his face screwing up. "You're so mean, Saki-chan. If this was a hangover, you'd be throwing the curtains open and shouting in my face."

"I know a better cure for hangovers," she offered with a completely straight face. "Known to be very efficient in inducing sobriety in thick-witted males. It works for other forms of giddiness as well."

He laughed, even as a nervous drop of sweat trickled down the back of his head. "All right, you've made your point," he said, collecting himself. "You're right about us having things to discuss, anyway. First off, I'd like to know where I am."

"You're in one of our safehouses here in the Outer City."

He made a skeptical sound. "And I'm not your prisoner? These lavish quarters—" he gestured at the four bare walls around them "—this must be the luxury suite then."

"There was no safer place to bring you. You must remember, Shigure-san, that you are a wanted criminal now. At the very least an accomplice to a known magic-user, and—"

"A coddler of the Ashari rebels and a traitor to Mizaka, right?" he finished with a grim smile. "And with a whole squadron of guards as witnesses, too. Which brings me to my next question: Why did you help us?"

Sooty eyelashes lowered for a moment. "It was the Princess we were trying to save. You and your cousins were merely incidental at that time."

"'Incidental?'" he echoed dryly. "_Mou_, you certainly know how to make a person feel appreciated. Well, Tohru-kun is safe now. She and my cousins are on their way to Ryuukama."

Again, the barest flicker in her dark eyes. "I know. My people, though, believe that she is going to bring tidings of hope to our long-lost kinsmen, who have been driven into hiding among the hills and forests of the eastern lands. But something tells me her path has been diverted, as has the path your cousins and her friend have taken. The omens have spoken of black sorcery, death and much suffering, but are as yet vague about the details."

Omens, inexplicable connections and sorcerous conspiracies. He was way over his head and sinking fast. "I must be getting slow in my old age," he attempted to joke. "It might help if you explained a few things, such as who the hell are you people and what do you want with Tohru-kun and the rest of us?"

She didn't answer for a long time, and even though her face showed absolutely no emotion at all, Shigure had the feeling she was weighing how much to reveal to him. He wished he weren't so concussed; it would have been far easier to link minds with her and see the images her thoughts would take form than to rely on her words. Words were so easily manipulated, and he ought to know. "I know you're not Ashari. You told me that much before," he said, trying to help her out. "You told me something else, too, something about the thread of fate binding my cousins and me, as well as Tohru-kun. And then you showed me—" _—something unbelievable_, he finished silently, recalling the barrage of images she'd sent him during his interrogation with Governor Takei. Something about a thousand-year-old betrayal and a two-hundred-year-old attempt at revenge that went horribly awry. Something about the Forbidden Tribe returning to power. 

__

The Forbidden Tribe, he thought, suppressing a shudder. Apparently two hundred years weren't long enough to bury that wretched name in the musty pages of history for good. 

"Sohma-san—"

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Shigure-san," she amended, "we saved your life for two reasons, the first being that the Princess would have wanted us to. It was the least we could do, after you took her in and cared for her when Lady Kyoko died and her family turned her away. As for the second..." She sighed again, then her shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly as if finally coming to a decision. "The truth, Shigure-san, is that I need your help."

If she hadn't already had his undivided attention, she'd have definitely made him sit up after that. "If you think you can hold me for ransom or use me to worm your way into the governor's august circles, then you're sadly mistaken," he said with a humorless chuckle. "One thing the Sohma family does well is survive, and we didn't learn this by being too burdened by loyalty." His uncle would have heard of the disappearance of his son and two nephews by now. Shigure didn't need to use his gift to know that, far from actually trying to search for them and make sure they were safe, Amano would have taken immediate steps to distance himself and the rest of the family from the three criminal misfits. Shigure's own rank or the fact that the bloodline lived or died with him didn't matter so long as the family survived this scandal with its power intact. It was a way of thinking that was all too drearily familiar to Shigure. He himself might have acted the same way had his and his uncle's places been been reversed.

__

Mou, he thought ruefully, _sometimes it really was a curse, being able to see things from behind another person's eyes_.

"I don't need your money or your family's influence, Shigure-san," she was saying.

He shrugged. "I'm listening." 

She sighed again. "As I told you, we are not Ashari, though we share the same blood. We call ourselves the Shukari, an ancient tribal name. And while your family has all but forgotten its legacy of magic, my people have not."

Shigure gave her a blank look.

"There is a prophecy among my people that speaks of a savior through whom a new world will be born, and with it an era of peace, prosperity and freedom," she continued, undaunted by his lack of response. "There are certain conditions required for this prophecy to be fulfilled, however, and for years these conditions have not been met, so that some of my people have dismissed this prophecy as the useless ramblings of demented old hags of the past. There had been one chance, two hundred years ago, for this prophecy to be fulfilled. One chance, but something went terribly wrong and instead of a world reborn, all it resulted in was untold destruction and unspeakable tragedy. Since then we have all been wary of hope, wary of pinning our dreams of peace and a better life to a prophecy that has failed us so disastrously before. But now, two hundred years later, the conditions for the prophecy are once again falling into place, and the magic is stirring once more. These storms, this pressure in the air—you can feel it, can you not? You and your two cousins are all sensitives, with latent powers of your own. I'm sure you have been aware of the shifts in the energies for far longer than the people around you."

He thought about the strange restlessness and bizarre dreams that had been plaguing him and his cousins. Quite unexpectedly, a voice from the foggy depths of his memory crept back into his consciousness: _Two hundred years ago, this city was nearly destroyed by a powerful invading force. In the end, our ancestors managed to defeat the invaders and rebuild our city, and the wall was built to ensure that such a thing would never happen again. _

Governor Takei, whose prickly dignity Shigure had always believed masked an inborn streak of paranoia and persistent delusions of persecution. Could it be that Makoto had been closer to the truth than even he could have imagined?

"Things are different this time," she went on, oblivious to—or choosing to ignore—the chaotic turn her words had flung his thoughts into. "There are elements now that were not present two hundred years before. The coming of our kinsmen is one of these. Things are drawing to a point; the slightest mistake or the omission of the smallest detail could send everything crashing down around us, resulting in an even more bitter tragedy. But my heart tells me that there is hope, and with the Princess passing beyond my sight and my people preparing to wage another desperate war that would only lead to more useless bloodshed, I cannot afford to be wrong."

__

I believe history is about to repeat itself and I intend to thwart it before it starts, Governor Takei pronounced ponderously in Shigure's mind. Thinking about his interrogation at the hands of the governor reminded Shigure of something else, an errand he had sent Mit-chan to do. At the time he'd informed his private secretary about it, he'd been somewhat embarrassed at entertaining such ridiculous notions and feeling a tiny bit guilty for conducting an investigation behind Tohru's back, as if she were some suspect he'd wanted checked out. But an odd, gut-deep instinct had insisted. There was something about Tohru and her past that didn't quite mesh with the image of the ordinary girl she believed herself to be. And now there were these people calling Tohru 'Princess' and spinning prophecies around her. Maybe it wasn't just the governor after all. Maybe some part of Shigure had known something was up, and had decided to act before the rest of him could catch on to what was happening. And all he had to do now was contact Mit-chan and find out whether his instincts had proved true yet again.

In the meantime, he decided to play his lovely jailer's game, at least until he could get himself together enough to break out of this place. "Very noble, I'm sure," he said to her, "but I still don't see what all this have to do with me, my cousins or Tohru-kun."

She gave him a measuring look. "I have felt a strange magic around you and your cousins. Your psychic waves feel different from the rest of your family, or anyone else in Mizaka. I would not have thought much of it—in the past, your family has been known for its talent for sorcery—if it weren't for the omens. But whether you like it or not, you and your two cousins are tied up inextricably with prophecy. You will have a role to play before all this is over, Shigure-san. As for the Princess, it is through her that the prophecy will be fulfilled. It is, to use a word you regard so lightly, her destiny."

__

Ah yes, he thought wryly. _Miyamoto-ojiichan would have been so proud_. "What exactly is this prophecy, anyway?"

Her gaze slid away from his. "After two hundred years, the Twelve Houses of Heaven are coming into alignment once more," she murmured almost to herself. "The power within the earth has awakened, and soon the barriers will fall. He will rise again to finish what he had begun two hundred years ago. The darkness will descend over us all. It cannot be allowed."

The muted dread in her voice was starting to get to him, and once again he cursed his concussion that prevented him from linking with her and getting right to the heart of all this. The Twelve Houses of Heaven? Barriers and powers within the earth? And who the hell was "he," anyway? _History is about to repeat itself,_ the phantom Takei insisted from somewhere inside him, making his head ache all the more. 

"But something's different this time," she continued to mutter. "Something not even he had foreseen."

"What's different? What're you talking about?"

A small smile flitted upon her lips. "The Thirteenth House of Heaven has come."

He stared at her in complete bewilderment. Becoming aware of him once again, she raised her eyes to his and gave him that tiny, mysterious smile again. "I apologize. I'm not making any sense to you, am I?"

He sighed. "You never did, Saki-chan, but I think I'm getting used to it."

"The alignment of the Twelve Houses of Heaven is one of the conditions set by the prophecy. The alignment of the Twelve Houses will open a two-hundred-year-old barrier between our world and the darkness, and with that, the shattering of the kingdom of Kaibara and its surviving cities will be made complete."

__

History repeating itself. Shigure snorted, trying his damnedest to cling to some semblance of reason as a desperate and increasingly futile attempt to stave off the dark suspicions brewing within him. "You mean, the black sorcerer will rise again and do battle with the king, and the Forbidden Tribe will wake up from whatever dank, noisome hole they fell in and wreak havoc upon us again?"

She rose abruptly and moved until she stood directly in front of him, forcing him to tilt his head up to meet her gaze. "Shigure-san, the Shukari is our tribe's ancient name, known only to those who share our blood and have earned our trust," she said in her soft voice. "For the past thousand years, however, your people, the Race of the Sun God, have called us by another name."

She raised her right arm so that her flowing sleeve pulled back to her wrist. Tattooed on the back of her right hand was a figure of a staff with a pair of wide, outspread wings. The staff ended in a blade shaped like a crescent moon. He stared at the mark, all his dark suspicions spilling out into the light of awareness, becoming undeniable truth. He had seen this mark before in the pages of several history books, back in his untidy study. It was the symbol of a vile, pagan religion, of sheer barbarism that had been overthrown by the light of civilization and the glory of Akkan the Sun God. It had been last seen two hundred years ago, just before the end came for the kingdom of Kaibara.

His head snapped back up to hers, brown eyes tumultuous with dawning realization clashing with inscrutable dark ones. A moment passed, then Saki Hanajima, Lady of the Shukari, lowered her hand and stepped back, unyielding serenity wrapping around her like a veil. "You see, Shigure-san, the Forbidden Tribe has never disappeared. The Shukari is the Forbidden Tribe, and we have risen up now to claim what is ours."

-----------------------------------

Author's Notes:

Ugh. That didn't turn out as well as I'd wanted. I think I got Shigure, but Hana-chan was hard. I'm missing several episodes in the anime, including the one where Uo-chan and Hana-chan visit Tohru at Shigure's place and Haru's first appearance where Hana-chan ended up beating everybody at cards, so I don't remember exactly how Shigure's and Hana-chan's interactions went. All I had was that New Year's Day episode, where Shigure tries to use the bathroom and Hana-chan won't let him. (I remember thinking, hah! The dog has finally met his match. It was probably my inspiration for this unconventional pairing.) I hope the OOC-ness isn't too jarring, and I hope nobody takes too much of an offense at a possible non-canon Hana-chan-Shigure pairing. It was just too weird to resist. Don't worry; it's the only non-canon pairing in my story…I think.

Once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of you who read and reviewed. That means you, Chibi Mi-chan, Heaven-Sent, Merei-chan, R Junkie (darn, you sure know evil when you see it ^_^), CB, bubblegum koala gum, babyblu, Lily, Kiyoko, Lil Ole Me, cyjj, shardingtoby (thanks, you do my heart a world of good ^_^), Clymene, anime26angel, Linay and everyone who was too lazy to sign in but not to read--you know who you are, ne? I'm sorry if I missed anyone, be assured I appreciate every one of you.

Well, that's enough rambling. Please continue to read and review, everyone! ^_^


	32. Book 3, Chapter 39

- - -

The little village of Aoka lay nestled among the rolling hills like a pearl in a bed of satin, almost hidden by the tall, green-gold grasses and rows of trees that adorned the landscape. Rice fields flanked the village, while the blue line of the sea sparkled in the distance, banded by a narrow beach of gray sand, rocks and the occasional fishing boat. A dirt road curved, whip-like, about the low, wood-and-thatch houses and various vegetable gardens and animal pens, lingered around the courtyard in the middle of the village, and tapered off into mere ruts dug into the ground by cartwheels as it meandered away into the hills. There were no inns in Aoka; the rare traveler who somehow managed to stray into the village never stayed for long, and most of the time never even realized where he'd been. For many years, the little village lay within its nest of grass-lined hills, isolated from the rest of the world. In the past several months, however, the world had ended Aoka's isolation, and uncertainty now hummed beneath the rustic peace of the little village.

A young woman stepped out of one of the houses and turned her face toward the sun, breathing in the crisp smell of morning. A hand lifted to tuck several strands of hair back into her white cap, while the other adjusted its grip on the basket partially hidden among the folds of her plain, homespun skirt. Several chickens tumbled past in a flurry of feathers and alarmed squawks, pursued by a couple of squealing, laughing children. They waved at her as they ran past her, and she smiled and waved back, then her smile faded into a sigh. Unconsciously bracing her shoulders as if gearing up for battle, she set off toward the center of the village.

"Yui-oneechan! Yui-oneechaaaan!"

She turned at the sound of a voice calling her name. A girl around eleven years old bounded toward her, thick braids flying straight out behind her. "Yui-oneechan," the girl panted when she caught up with her, "are you going to visit the prisoners again?"

"Rika-chan, you could try to be a little more ladylike," Yui admonished mildly, but Rika merely grinned. "To answer your question, yes, I am. But you mustn't think of them as prisoners. They're our guests."

Rika made a skeptical sound as she fell into step with Yui. "That's not what it looked like when Eijiro and the others brought them here. In fact," she added conspiratorially, "Masao-kun said that one of them was demon-possessed, and they had to chain him up to keep him from attacking them again."

"Rika-chan—"

"He nearly beat Daisuke to a bloody pulp," Rika went on in hushed tones that were nevertheless full of relish. "It took four of them to bring him down, he was that strong. At least, that's what Masao-kun said."

"Masao-kun talks entirely too much," Yui said with a sigh. "Rika-chan, they are not demon-possessed, merely confused, grieving and in pain. Eijiro and the others rescued them from a terrible battle from which they barely survived. Their wounds go deeper than the ones I tended to, and it is our duty to take care of them, with or without Eijiro's instructions."

"What kind of battle, Yui-oneechan?" Rika asked, frowning. "We're not fighting with anyone, are we? Is it Mizaka? Eijiro said that Mizaka wants to destroy them and that anyone from Mizaka could not be trusted. Have the city guards come for them?"

Yui shook her head. "No, not the city. Something worse." She glanced down into Rika's questioning face. "Do you remember what happened to Takeshi-san's farm?"

Rika's eyes went wide. "Not…demons?" she whispered. At Yui's grave silence, she shivered. "But that was just one time, wasn't it? I mean, those demons aren't really going to come here, are they?"

"Probably not. Our village is too far away even for demons," Yui reassured her. "In any case, I ask that you let Masao-kun's tall tales end with you. Those four people need our compassion and understanding, Rika-chan, not idle chatter and suspicion."

Rika giggled, the sound chasing away the cloud of fear. "Yui-oneechan, you talk like a stuffy old priestess. All right, I won't spread stories about them anymore, but I'd still like to see them."

"You're right on time then," Yui said in amusement, "because we're here."

She stopped in front of a house similar to the others although quite larger in size, pulled a key out of her pocket, and unlocked the door. Light cut into a bare, dim hall, and Yui hid a smile at the way Rika jumped at the ominous creak of the door as it swung open. At the other end of the hall was a corridor with rows of doors on either side, made of hardwood that was nigh unbreakable, each one arrayed with thick bolts. The light tried to follow them in but the gloom in the hall crowded it out, and Rika pressed close to Yui as she walked with only the slightest trepidation toward the first door. She put her basket down and lifted the bolt with both hands, then paused and glanced at Rika. "Rika-chan, perhaps you should wait here for me. I won't be long."

When Rika nodded, Yui picked up the basket, took a deep breath, and slipped into the room. She was gone for a seemingly interminable length of time, and Rika began to grow nervous. She'd already decided to rush in and rescue Yui from the clutches of the demon-possessed prisoner when the door opened and Yui stepped out, looking both relieved and befuddled. "Yui-oneechan, are you all right?"

Yui nodded. "How was the priso—guest?" Rika asked.

"He's fine. The infection has gone down, and his wounds are finally healing." She rubbed her forehead in puzzlement. "I don't understand it. He seems like an entirely different person. He was so decent and polite, and he even thanked me for taking care of him. How did this happen, I wonder?"

"Is he the one who was demon-possessed?"

Yui gave her a look that was meant to be reproving but somehow lacked conviction. "He is not demon-possessed," she chided half-heartedly. "Although…" Her brow furrowed. "Perhaps I should ask Eijiro to allow him to return to his companions. He certainly doesn't seem like a danger to anyone now."

She made her way toward another door, this time allowing Rika to follow her in. In contrast to the gloom of the hall, the room was sunny and warm, if a bit bare, consisting of a bed pushed back against a wall, a chair, and a table with a pitcher of water and a vase with a single daisy whose petals waved slightly in the breeze. The thick wooden bars installed across the windows were the only indication that the place was not quite the perfectly ordinary room it seemed. A man lay upon the bed, a heavy blanket covering him to the chest. At the sight of the open windows, Yui gave a soft cry and hurried over to draw the curtains closed, then turned to the man on the bed. "Oh, Kensuke-san, please don't tell me you spent the night with the windows open."

The man opened his eyes and attempted to focus on her, then groaned and closed his eyes again. Yui regarded him with anxious sympathy, then proceeded to tend the bandages wrapped around his torso with the medicines she had packed in her basket. The man barely moved throughout her ministrations, grimacing only when she lifted his head and forced him to drink a tonic she had prepared. Her task done, she sighed and stood up, becoming aware of Rika hovering nearby, watching curiously. "His name is Kensuke. When he came here, his injuries were far worse than the others'," Yui told her. "His wounds are healing, but his spirit has been very badly drained, and his body grows weaker because of it."

"Why is that, Yui-oneechan?"

"I don't know. He seems to bear a great heaviness of the heart. Eijiro said there had been another like him, but he died on the way here."

"Another like him?"

Yui pointed at the foot of the bed. What Rika had thought was a small pile of scrap metal turned out to be a dented armor, a battered shield and a broken sword. Through the scratches on the shield, Rika could still make out the figure etched in gold upon the black metal. "I can't be sure," Yui went on softly, "but I've heard that in the city of Ryuukama soldiers bear upon their shields the image of the dragon."

"Ryuukama," Rika said wonderingly. "Is he a sorcerer, then?"

"A knight. One who has been sent to protect. He has wandered far from home then, the poor man." Yui brushed back a lock of hair off the knight's forehead, then turned and walked away, closing the door gently behind her. She and Rika then headed toward the last door. With her hands upon the bolt, Yui paused and glanced back at Rika as if say something, changed her mind, and unbolted the door.

As the door swung open, Rika took a step back, as if expecting a maddened prisoner, with frothing mouth and flaring eyes, to spring out of the room like a jack-in-the-box. But when Yui walked with no hesitation, Rika had no choice but to follow.

Like the other rooms in the house, this room was brightly lit and neatly, if sparsely, decorated, and hardly what one expected a sickroom to look like. Two beds faced each other from opposite sides of the room, while a table and two chairs set atop a threadbare rug in the middle. There were even a couple of picture frames hanging on the wall between the windows, and Rika, following the line from the picture frames to the windows, finally laid eyes upon the figure standing at the window with his back to them, his hands upon the window sill.

The figure turned, and solemn golden eyes returned her frankly curious stare. The figure was a boy who looked just about her age and height, and dressed a ragged pink shirt and brown short pants. Sunlight glinted upon rumpled, golden waves of hair, giving him a cherubic air. The boy smiled slightly and inclined his head in a little bow, and Rika's gaze dropped to her toes as shyness suddenly gripped her.

"I can give you something to help with the pain if it still hurts you, Momiji-san," Yui said over her shoulder while rummaging through the contents of her basket. Rika lifted her eyes again and only then noticed the bandage wrapped around the boy's head, half-hidden by his hair.

The boy called Momiji shook his head. "Mm. Thanks, but it feels better now. Yui is a really good healer."

Yui gave him a sad smile. "In these dark times, Momiji-san, I've had to be." She looked over at the bed near Momiji, where a large lump lay completely covered by the sheets. "Is Arisa-san—"

"She's asleep," Momiji said before she could complete her question. Yui stared at him, then at the bed with the gently knowing expression that Rika knew meant she'd spotted a lie, then to the girl's surprise she nodded, accepting his answer.

"How is Haru? And Kensuke? Are they all right?" Momiji asked.

"Kensuke-san's condition is unchanged, but Hatsuharu-san is doing much better. He seems to have calmed down a bit. More than a bit." Yui expelled a gusty breath. "Honestly, Momiji-san, I'm convinced your companion has been kidnapped during the night and this mild-mannered imposter has taken his place."

"Eh?" Momiji's shoulders loosened a little as some of the tension seemed to leave him. "So Haru's finally turned white again. I'm glad. He was really terrible the last time he was black."

"'Turned white,' Momiji-san?"

"Mm," he murmured again. "See, there are two Harus inside him, one we call white, the other black. Black Haru comes out whenever he's hurt or angry, and when he's black he can be uncontrollable. But he's harmless when he's white, just a bit dazed sometimes. You can untie him now, Yui," he added quietly. "He won't hurt you when he's white."

Rika's jaw dropped when the ever-composed Yui actually blushed. "Oh, h-he didn't really hurt me when he turned black, Momiji-san," she stammered, fiddling with the jars in her basket to hide her scarlet cheeks. "He just acted a bit, ah, forward with me, that's all. No harm done." Rika craned her neck to better observe the rare phenomenon of a flustered Yui, and the young woman gave her a quelling frown. "B-besides, I took off his bindings as soon as I could. The ropes were chafing at the bruises on his arms."

Momiji breathed a sigh of relief. "Can we see him then?"

Yui looked troubled. "Momiji-san, I—that's not for me to say."

"You said he was better now," a new voice cut in tightly. The lump on the bed suddenly threw off the covers, revealing the angry face of a girl who looked a few years older than Momiji. Blond hair fell over her shoulders in a disheveled mass, partially concealing a pair of blue eyes that were red-rimmed and sharp with resentment. The girl's jaw jutted out aggressively, and Rika could see the fading remnants of what must have been a rather large bruise on her cheek. "Wasn't that why you took him and Kensuke away? To tend to their injuries? Or are you gonna come up with another sorry-assed excuse to keep us all apart?" the girl said scathingly.

"Arisa-san, it really—"

"Don't give me that 'it's for your own good' shit," Arisa growled. "When you locked us up and bound my friend hand and foot like some animal, it sure as hell wasn't for our own good, was it? Why were we brought here, anyway? Why are we caged up like this? What the hell have we ever done to you?"

"Arisa," Momiji murmured, looking worriedly at the girl.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Arisa-san," Yui said. "But your friend Hatsuharu was only doing himself and others more harm when he went berserk. Eijiro and the others only did what they had to. And you are not prisoners here, despite what it looks like. Eijiro brought you here to our village in order to nurse you back to health. You were barely alive when they found you."

"Well, if this Eijiro is such a saint, then maybe you should tell him to take those damn things off," Arisa retorted, pointing at the bars on th0e windows. "And I still don't see what bolting the doors to our cells have to do with nursing us back to health."

"That—that's not for me to say," Yui repeated shakily. "You must ask Eijiro when he comes back."

"He wants something from us, doesn't he? He's keeping us here for a reason," Momiji put in. "He and the others must have been tracking our caravan the whole time. The village seemed deserted when we got there, before—before the demons…" He shuddered, the color fading from his already pale face. "Eijiro and his men arrived just in time to save us. It was all too convenient. And to think we didn't even know they were following us."

"H-how is your ankle, Arisa-san?" Yui asked somewhat desperately.

Arisa glanced up from her brooding. "Huh? Oh, it's fine," she answered, looking down at her bandaged leg peeking out from the sheets. "Thanks for patching us up," she muttered grudgingly.

An awkward silence fell over them, and Rika fidgeted under its weight. Yui noticed her restless motions and beckoned her closer, almost pushing her forward. "By the way, this is my cousin, Rika," she said, relieved to have something else to talk about. Rika found herself the object of scrutiny of two pairs of eyes, one with subdued interest, the other impassive. "She came with me because she wanted to meet you. Rika-chan, say hello to our guests, Momiji-san and Arisa-san."

Rika bobbed her head helplessly, too self-conscious to speak. Arisa's face softened a little, and her lips quirked upward. "Yo," she said.

"Glad to meet you, Rika. So you and Yui are cousins, _ne_? I thought you looked alike." Momiji smiled, and Rika ducked her head to hide a blush. Yui raised an eyebrow at her odd behavior, and Rika tried to glare up at her cousin and peek at Momiji from beneath her bangs at the same time.

"Yui, can you take us to Haru?" Momiji pleaded. "We'd really like to see him. Maybe our presence will keep him from going black again. And Kensuke, too. I think I have an idea what's wrong with him. Maybe we could help him get better, _ne_?"

Yui looked torn. "Oh, Momiji-san, I don't know—"

"Yes, you do," Arisa interjected, the twist of her lips turning sardonic. "All you have to do is undo that bolt, right? You did say we weren't your prisoners, and it's not like we could cover much ground if we do try to escape, with our condition and all."

Yui rubbed her forehead, a gesture Rika knew meant she was thinking deeply about something. "All right," she said with a sigh. "I'll see what I can do about your companions. In any case, I'll have your breakfast brought to you shortly. Come along, Rika-chan."

She picked up her basket and was almost at the door when she halted. "Oh, silly me, I almost forgot again." She turned back toward Momiji, her hand reaching into her pocket. "I found this in Hatsuharu-san's hand when I was treating his wounds. It seemed like a very important thing to him, so I thought I ought to give it to you for safekeeping until he has fully recovered."

Moving as if his limbs were suddenly too heavy to lift, Momiji reached out for the silver chain Yui was holding out to him. The chain swung in the air, the little animal charms glinting innocently in the sunlight. Beside him, Arisa gave a choked cry. He forced himself to focus beyond the charm necklace, and found Yui and Rika watching him with a mixture of sympathy and interest.

"It's a pretty little thing," Yui commented. "I thought it might belong to a special girl Hatsuharu-san knew."

Momiji moved his head jerkily. "No," he whispered. "It belonged to a special girl we all knew."

The two of them waited in frozen silence until Yui and Rika left the room and the bolt thudded over the door. Then Arisa twisted violently and slammed a fist against the wall beside her. "Son of a bitch!" she screamed, her voice thick with tears. She pounded against the wall, shouting a stream of curses until she began to lose coherence and her screams ground down into hoarse sobs. "All she wanted was to help," she wept as she sagged onto the bed. "That's all she ever wanted. That's all she ever…how could this have happened to her? Oh gods, why her? Why her?!"

"Arisa."

She turned. Momiji hadn't moved, as if shock and sorrow had turned him into stone, but she could see the slight tremors that wracked his small body. Slowly, he curled his fingers around the charm necklace and met Arisa's anguished gaze with one of his own. "I—I can't see her," he confessed painfully, tears beginning to stream down his face. "I can't see her at all, not even in my dreams. I could before if I really tried, if I concentrated hard enough, but now I can't. I _can't_." His voice cracked, and Arisa threw herself off the bed and knelt on the floor, unmindful of her bruises and her injured ankle, and wrapped Momiji in a tight embrace. "I can't see her anymore," Momiji whispered against Arisa's shaking shoulder. "Tohru."

They remained that way for several long moments, taking what comfort they could from their shared loss. Eventually, Arisa released Momiji and sat gingerly on the bed, with Momiji coming to sit beside her. They stared dully down at the charm necklace as if to divine from it the fate of their friend, but the silver chain and its little animal charms remained stubbornly mute. "Haru found it?" Momiji finally asked, his voice still husky from crying.

Arisa nodded. "We were searching for the source of that golden light. Osamu said it felt like it came from Touma. We found him lying in a crater with a lot of dead villagers around him. With so many of those damned vipers after us, we didn't have time to look where his companions had gone. I remember Haru-kun breaking away from us to pick something up off the ground. That move nearly cost him his head, and Kensuke had to go after him to keep him from getting lost. I guess this was what Haru-kun risked his life to retrieve back then."

"And he kept it with him all this time," Momiji said softly. "It must have been torture to him, being reminded this way. No wonder he kept turning black so often, despite his injuries."

"She never took it off. Not even to take a bath. Kyoko-san gave it to her, and she was so proud to wear it." Arisa leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes in bitter recollection. "I promised Kyoko-san I'd be there for her. I promised her that I'd make myself worthy to call Tohru my friend. She and Tohru were the ones who saved me, back when I was still with that gang in the Outer City. They were hunting me down to keep me from breaking away, and I would've gotten killed if Kyoko-san hadn't rescued me. Tohru and Kyoko-san, they gave me the strength to climb out of the bottomless pit I'd fallen into. They gave me the strength to change." She thrust a hand through her hair and looked up at the ceiling. "Gods, how do I tell Kyoko-san that I've let Tohru down now?"

Momiji looked over at her and opened his mouth, but the low scraping of the bolt being undone forestalled his speech. The door opened and Rika peered cautiously around it. "Um, hello," she said timidly. "I brought you breakfast."

She opened door wider to make room for the tray she carried, which wobbled precariously in her hands. Momiji rose to help her with it, setting down the bowls of porridge and earthen mugs full of steaming rice coffee on the table. "_Waah_, we get honey on our porridge? Thanks, Rika."

Rika reddened at his praise. "They almost didn't let me bring it," she admitted, and Momiji caught sight of a man standing outside the door, watching them. When Rika grinned and waved, the man nodded at her, glowering all the time, then bolted the door closed.

Arisa cocked an eyebrow. "You're pretty brave, hanging around a couple of strangers without anyone to watch over you. Aren't you worried we might be dangerous? We've been locked up, after all."

Rika flushed again. "You don't look dangerous," she said in a rush, darting furtive little glances at Momiji. "Although you did scare people when you started yelling and hitting the walls like that. Besides, Yui-oneechan did say you were guests of our village, and there's nothing wrong with me talking to guests, right?"

Arisa and Momiji exchanged looks, then Momiji clasped his hands behind his back and smiled. "True, true," he said, sounding like a ghost of his former ebullient self. Rika smiled shyly back.

She ushered them toward the table and watched them as they picked at their food despite the honey, with her elbows on the table and her chin propped up on her hands, her face bright with fascination. "You two talk funny," she announced, then clapped her hands over her mouth when she realized how rude her statement was. "I mean, you don't talk like anyone else I've met. You make your words sound different," she added hastily. "What village are you from?"

"Not a village," Momiji answered. "We're from Mizaka."

Rika's jaw dropped in shock. "Oh no, you're from the city? You haven't come to arrest Eijiro and Daisuke and Akane and the others, have you?"

"Arrest them?" Arisa echoed. "Why the hell would we do that?"

"Because Mizaka wants to destroy Eijiro and his people."

Both Momiji and Arisa stopped and stared at her, with the glimmering of suspicion evident in Arisa's narrowed eyes. "Waaaait a minute—"

"I think your city was just being mean and cruel," Rika declared roundly. "Eijiro and his people only wanted a place to live in, and Mizaka not only drove them away, it even sent those city guards to kill their chieftain's son and his friends. And that's _after_ they were already driven away, so what's the point in that? Really, that was pretty childish of you. I mean, not _you_ you of course, but your city," she amended.

Neither Momiji nor Arisa seemed to have heard the rest of Rika's little speech as they stared at each other, their faces mirroring each other's thoughts. "Bandits," Momiji said, dropping all pretense of eating. "Eijiro and his men are Ashari bandits."

Arisa gave a short, ironic laugh. "Shit. You mean to tell me we were rescued from demons by a bunch of bandits?"

"Eijiro and his men are not bandits," Rika protested hotly. "They're friendly and nice and they're really good fighters. They saved Takeshi-san and his family when demons invaded their farm, and they showed my father and the other men how to fish so that they could catch more without destroying the schools. Akane even showed Yui-oneechan how to treat someone with the bloody guts. Eijiro and the other Ashari protect our village and the other villages from the real bandits and now from demons and monsters, too. They steal and rob only what they need, and only from those people who deserve it."

"Heeh? Who deserves being robbed and stolen from by Ashari bandits?" Momiji wanted to know.

"W-well, people from Mizaka, I suppose," she said, her words ending in an embarrassed mumble, and she stared down the table top as though she had never seen it before.

Arisa sucked in a breath. "_That's_ why they were tailing our caravan. You were right, Momiji." Momiji locked gazes with her, and the two of them shared the same grim realization. "Oy, Rika, where is Eijiro now?" she asked, her eyes never leaving Momiji's.

"Oh, he and the others left a couple of days ago to go back to their settlement. They just brought you here and told us to take care of you then they left right after," Rika replied, oblivious to the dread her words had stirred.

"And when are they coming back?"

At Momiji's measured question, Rika glanced at him then at Arisa with a puzzled exprssion, somehow beginning to sense the undercurrent of tension. "I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Eijiro only said they'd be back soon. Anytime now, I guess." She took in Momiji's drawn expression, and chewed on her lip for a while. "I could go ask Yui-oneechan, if you want," she offered, then straightened as if coming to a decision. "Yes, that's a good idea. Eijiro talked the longest with her, so she probably knows what his plans are. Let me go ask her."

She skipped to the door, knocked on it three times and waited until it was opened by the same man who brought her to the room. "Wait for me, all right? I won't be long," she called to them, apparently forgetting that neither Momiji nor Arisa had much choice in the matter.

Momiji stared down at his barely eaten porridge with unseeing eyes. "They've been following our caravan for who knows how long," he said in a low voice. "Arisa, they know who we are."

Arisa nodded darkly, the unspoken thoughts flying thick and fast between them. _They consider Mizaka their enemy. They think we killed their chieftain's son. And now they think they've gotten their hands on a prize catch: the children of the Sohma clan, Mizaka's most powerful family. They have us at their mercy, and they fully intend to return the favor. _"Huh," she said out loud, her lip curling in disgust. "All these bolts and bars on the windows. They must think we're madmen or something."

"We've got get to Haru and Kensuke somehow. Maybe we could ask Rika to help us."

_And when they find out that we're worthless to Mizaka, they just might kill us anyway. _

"How far do you think we could go? We're all in pretty bad shape, especially those two."

"We could try."

_We've got to get out of here. Before they come back for us._

"I don't know how much time we've got, but we have to try. Tohru would have wanted us to."

_We've got to escape._

The bolt scraped against the door again, and the two occupants of the room jumped in their seats. Rika practically kicked the door open, earning a scowl from her escort. "Have I got some good news for you!" she announced happily.

"You talked to Yui? What did she say?" Arisa demanded.

Rika shook her head. "Even better. Listen, do you hear that?"

They tilted their heads, sifting through the normal, everyday sounds of the village. They could hear voices speaking excitedly outside, the clucking of chickens and the bleating of a goat that had been tethered to a tree just outside their window. The voices grew louder, and every now and then a child would eagerly shout out a name. There was another sound though, a low, rhythmic thudding that made the ground shiver underneath their feet. A horse neighed in the distance, echoed by another and still another, and as one Momiji and Arisa shot to their feet and rushed to the windows, trying to peer through the cloud of dust and the gathering crowd.

Arisa stepped back with a frozen expression. "Sounds like a fucking army's out there," she muttered.

"Uhuh," Rika chirped, and they turned and stared at her. "They're here. Eijiro and the other Ashari have just come back, and they've brought their chieftain with them. Isn't that wonderful?"

Arisa met Momiji's eyes. It was too late.


	33. Book 3, Chapter 40

- -

Dust flew up beneath thundering hooves as he spurred his horse onward. Flecks of sweat dampened the beautiful black flanks, but the ebony stallion kept the pace with stout-hearted fortitude, as though understanding the urgency that drove him and his men to ride with reckless speed to Nobara. His men were silent except for cries to urge their mounts forward; they had ridden all night without stopping, and he was well aware that fatigue dogged their company all throughout the desperate journey. They kept to the road near the edge of the forest, heading toward the ominous column of black smoke that rose above the tree-line. The smell of charred wood stung their eyes, growing stronger as they closed the distance. The road widened abruptly as they reached the borders of the town. He drew his sword and called out a word, and the blade blazed with blue-white fire. Steel rang as his men followed his lead.

All at once, their destination unfolded itself before them. The once-lovely town of Nobara lay in ruins. Thick clouds of smoke and ash poured out from the smoldering remains of the ornate houses and the graceful domed buildings that had been the pride and joy of the town's inhabitants. The elaborate gardens were ripped apart, the wild rose bushes that gave the town its name trampled to shreds. Here and there, deep furrows were cut into walls and jagged canals were dug into the ground, as if something had slashed and clawed its way through the town. The cobbled streets were littered with broken bricks, splintered wood, shattered pottery, scraps of clothing, broken swords and arrows and a wild variety of gardening implements—and bodies. So many bodies—sprawled on the ground, flung against the walls, lying half-in and half-out of collapsed greenhouses and crushed carts—the streets were slick with blood, the walls spattered with crimson. Human bodies lay alongside the corpses of their demonic killers. Creatures with swollen, vaguely ram-like heads adorning thick, leathery bodies, with clawed fists still gripping massive, blood-stained axes; great, hulking things that seemed to consist mostly out of bony plates, teeth and slimy red flesh; the all-too-familiar towering forms of viper warriors. But there were too few monsters who lay dead in the streets, and too many humans…far too many.

The company halted and dismounted, gazing in horror and dismay at the carnage around them. Figures moved among the bodies as they made their way through the town. The giant rats, the fanged lizards and the ghostly corpse-wraiths seeking host-bodies—the usual scavengers after a demon attack. They chittered and hissed at the sight of the newcomers but otherwise did not move away, apparently judging them as being no threat to their gruesome feasting. He narrowed his eyes and with a quick swing of his sword split the giant rat closest to him in half. It would be a pleasure to prove these vile creatures wrong.

"My lord," Satoru said beside him, his face above his beard and below his helm as gray as the smoke surrounding them. "My lord, we're too late."

He responded to that astounding pronouncement of the obvious with an icy glare. The other knights fanned out around him and looked at him expectantly, and Hatori Sohma, His Grace the Duke of Ryuukama, gave his first command. "Get rid of these vermin."

It took a while to exterminate all the carrion beasts and to pile up the bodies in the middle of the town, say a quick prayer to Akkan for the souls of the dead, and set fire to the pile. They stood and watched the flames of the funeral pyre climb high into the sky, and Hatori could feel the skin on the back of his neck and shoulders tighten with every questioning glance and worried frown his knights cast upon him until he felt as if the tension was the only thing that was keeping him from folding up on the ground in a dusty heap. Akkan's blood, he was beyond exhausted. The surge of adrenaline was draining out of him, leaving him feeling as weak as a kitten, every muscle shivering with weariness, and it was taking a dangerous amount of his flagging control just to keep his face from betraying the full extent of his weakness. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and resisted the temptation to lean upon it like an old man on his cane; the blue-white astral fire he had imbued the blade with had already vanished, and he hoped to all the gods that none of the demons returned because he wasn't sure if he still had enough strength to recast the spell.

He didn't know how long he could keep this up. He was driving himself and his men to the point of collapse, and he knew it. Too many sleepless nights of thinking and planning strategies and formulating theory after theory that never seemed to withstand the harsh test of reality come morning. Too many days spent in the saddle or battling against the seemingly infinite hordes of demons or flying from village to village and town to town trying to stem the tide of fear and rouse the people to the defense of their homes. And far too many moments like this, when it seemed the entire world burned and bled from the enormity of his failure.

Failure. The word haunted him, condemned him, made him tremble from the cuts it inflicted upon his soul. The marks of his failure surrounded him in the dead bodies consumed by the flame, the ruined homes, the haggard faces of his men. Despair, fury and paralyzing helplessness rose up from the black depths, and Hatori bent his head, fighting off the part of him that wanted to fall to his knees and give in, to cease this endless struggling and let the darkness consume him. Akkan knew he wasn't doing much good. Perhaps it would be better if he simply gave up and let another take his place; perhaps someone else could do a better job of protecting his people. The last thing Ryuukama needed was a leader who brought destruction with his every move.

"Your Grace?"

He looked up into the concerned faces of his men. Matsuo, Satoru, Ryuichi, all the others—good men, all of them. A more faithful, stalwart band of soldiers he had yet to find. They followed him through the fires of hell again and again without complaint, never wavering in their loyalty to him despite the deadends and horrible miscalculations that seemed to dog his every decision. They had proven their worth a thousand times over; gods, how could someone as weak and foolish as he be their leader? They didn't deserve this. They had families waiting for them back home—mothers, wives, children. They didn't deserve to have their lives flung about so carelessly by one man's sheer incompetence.

The image of Kana's face flickered in his mind. She smiled at him, her brown eyes as warm as springtime, and he wished with his entire being that he was back with her again. She could hold back the freezing cold that closed around his heart with every setback he faced, and he ached to lay his head upon her lap and let her hands soothe away his pains, let her voice tell him that it was all right, everything was going to be all right.

_The fever's getting worse, Hatori. We've tried everything. Oh gods, what are we going to do?_

The memory of the last time he had seen Kana came back to him. Her brown eyes were shadowed and full of fear, her beautiful face looking strained and white against the flickering candlelight in the sickroom. She laid a hand upon his chest as if to implore him to help their daughter, and he clasped her hand in his own to hide her trembling and his own. They gazed down at the figure lying on the bed, looking small and altogether too fragile among the pillows surrounding her, her shoulder-length, honey-blond hair the only splash of color upon the pristine white sheets. But Kisa didn't open her eyes to smile at them. She didn't reach up to them to ask for a hug. Instead she lay twisting and moaning and weeping in her troubled sleep, her body drenched with sweat, her hand gripped tightly in Hiro's, who sat by her bedside day after day despite attempts to drive him out of the room. Like a skilled archer, Hiro had let loose a barrage of arguments, each one more pointed that the one before, until the doctors and attendants finally gave up and left him alone to continue his vigil, and Hatori couldn't find it in his heart to begrudge the boy his devotion to his daughter.

His daughter, Kisa. They called him powerful, the strongest mage in Ryuukama. They called him a miracle-worker, with healing abilities that was the envy of the gods. And here he was, unable to help one frail little girl, unable to do anything but watch in helpless frustration and deepening hopelessness as his daughter faded away before his eyes.

What worth all his power when he couldn't even save his daughter's life? What was the use of fighting when he couldn't even keep a single town from being destroyed?

May Akkan have mercy on his soul.

"Your Grace?"

Satoru's anxious voice called him back from the melancholy he had sunk into. He focused again on the faces of his men. _Don't give in_, a voice whispered inside him. _You mustn't break, and you mustn't fall_. He drew in a shuddering breath and gathered his wits about him. _Look at them_, the voice went on gently. _Look into the faces of your men. They would gladly give their lives for you, and here they stand awaiting your next order. Your people still believe in you, Hatori. You are their lord, their Duke, and they need you now. You cannot fail them nor can you fall, because if you do, Ryuukama will fall with you._

Ryuukama will _not_ fall.

The thought shot molten steel through him, driving away the weariness. He sheathed his sword and strode away from the blazing pyre. "The attack came just after dawn," he said briskly. "It happened quickly, before the people in town even knew what was happening. There's a mercy there, at least."

"How do you know, Your Grace?"

He gestured at the scattered garden implements in one of Nobara's innumerable rose gardens. "They were just beginning their morning routine. There was almost no time to run back into their houses to grab their weapons before the demons were upon them."

"Pah, and no wonder," Matsuo said disgustedly. "Nobara has no defenses at all. No walls or fortifications, and no protective magics except the ones to grow their damned roses with. It was nothing but a useless piece of frippery inhabited by a bunch of gardeners."

Hatori fought to keep the guilt and shame out of his expression. "No. Nobara had protection."

"What?"

He stopped at an empty patch of the courtyard and uttered the words of the shield spell, holding his hand out in front of him, palm downward. His hand glowed blue and at his feet the blue-white lines of a large pentagram flared in response. To the knights' surprise, the sky above the town began to turn a deeper shade of blue, starting from directly above Hatori's head and sinking to the ground beyond the town's outskirts, forming a dome of indigo light over the town. "I created the shield when we went through here several days ago," Hatori said impassively. "Humans can pass through it but demons can't, which is why none of you sensed anything when we passed through the shield."

Ryuichi, the youngest member of the company, looked around doubtfully. "It didn't work, my lord."

"No, the shield worked, Ryuichi," Matsuo countered before Hatori could reply. "Open your eyes, boy. You didn't see any dead demons outside the perimeters of the town, did you? The shield worked, but it kept the demons _inside_ the town instead of outside. Besides, a shield like this would guarantee a safe getaway for the town's inhabitants, provided they can bring themselves to abandon their precious greenhouses. His Grace knows what he's about."

"So where did those hell-spawned creatures come from?" Ryuichi demanded frustratedly. "Lord Hatori sealed off the sky and all possible entry points to Nobara. We've already ruled out water back in that village by the river. To break through the dimensional barriers between the netherworld and ours requires the power of at least one element, and the fires here started after the demons came. Where else could they have found enough rips in the dimensional barriers to invade a town as swiftly as this?"

Hatori mounted the ebony stallion as he waited for Ryuichi to arrive at the only logical conclusion. The moment came when Ryuichi suddenly blanched. "You can't mean they come out of the ground," he said, aghast.

Hatori gave them a level look. "We head for the forest," he said curtly. "The survivors will have gathered there." And with that, he turned his steed and galloped off.

"Well, what else is there, Ryuichi?" Matsuo said dryly as the knights rode behind him.

"Then the only way to keep these demons out of the villages is to float the damn things off the ground," Ryuichi snapped. "All of them and the city too, and all at the same time, because we can never be sure when and where those accursed beasts will strike next. Who in this mortal realm has the power to do even half of that? It's madness, I tell you."

"Like I said," Matsuo drawled, "what else is there?"

They plunged into the forest, and it took a few seconds for Hatori's eyes to adjust to the relative gloom. Sunlight slid through the canopy of leaves and speckled the undergrowth as the horses picked their way through the trees, following an invisible path. Soon, the sound of voices drifted toward them, followed by a shout as they came to a small clearing in the heart of the woods. The survivors of the stricken town of Nobara gathered here, a small crowd of dazed, frightened and wounded people huddling together for comfort. Several of them gave cries of joy at the sight of Hatori and the knights, and a stout, middle-aged man broke away and hurried over to him as he dismounted.

"Your Grace!" the man half-sobbed with relief. "Your Grace, you're here, Akkan be praised."

"How many escaped?" Hatori asked, wasting no words.

"Around sixty, Your Grace," the man answered as he tried to keep up with him. "It all happened so fast. One minute everything was quiet, and the next—the next was utter chaos. All those horrible creatures appearing out of nowhere!"

With the instincts of a true healer, Hatori headed straight toward the one with the worst injuries, a man who moaned continually through a broken jaw while his frantic wife pressed both hands to the gash on his abdomen to keep his intestines in. "Your Grace!" the woman gasped through her tears. "Your Grace, please help him! Please!"

Wordlessly, Hatori knelt beside the man and removed the woman's bloodstained hands, replacing them with his own. He closed his eyes and summoned his power. Warm white light flowed through his arms and out through his fingers as he willed the flesh to knit and the pain to recede. Moments later, he removed his hands and repeated the process with the man's shattered jaw. "Find something to bind him up with and keep his wounds clean," he instructed the woman when it was over.

"Will he live?" the woman asked him. "They said he was dying, Your Grace. He won't die, will he?"

"He'll live," he said shortly, trying his damnedest not to let the waves of weakness show. The woman sobbed her thanks, and the next minute the other injured townsfolk swarmed around him, begging him to heal them. Seeing the strain on his face, Satoru elbowed his way through the throng and drew Hatori aside. "You should stop, my lord," he urged in a low voice. "You're worn clear through."

Hatori shook his head. "I can do this." Satoru gazed at him somberly, then sighed and released him, and Hatori was ashamed to find that he was swaying without the knight's hand to support him. He waded among the injured survivors, summoning his power through sheer force of will alone. _I can do this_, he thought as the healing energy drained out of him again and again. _I can heal them. I can save their lives._

_Would that I could do the same for my daughter._

Tears of exhaustion and despair stung his eyes. The townsfolks' excited babbling pierced through the thickening fog—"His Grace saved our lives," "a miracle, it is," "the Duke is here, the young Duke is with us," "he'll save us all, you'll see"—and Hatori felt laughter bubble up from the twisted corners of his mind. _Can't save his own daughter_, other voices taunted him. _Can't save his own city. Can't save his own people._ His hands moved automatically, spreading healing and magic all around, while the rest of him spiraled downward into hell.

"Enough! That's enough! Get away from him, you blithering idiots! Parasites, the lot of you!"

He blinked up at the leafy canopy, feeling the sunlight stab at his eyeballs like little darts, and wondered hazily what the hell he was doing lying prone on the ground. Silhouettes bordered his vision; his company of knights had formed a ring around him, protecting him from the cowed townsfolks. He pushed himself upright with effort, and the three knights closest to him immediately gathered around him. "Enough, Your Grace," Satoru said gently. "You're completely spent. You've pushed yourself harder than any of us, and you need to rest."

Hatori shook their hands off him and attempted to stand, and only Ryuichi's and Matsuo's quick reflexes kept him from toppling over when his legs folded up underneath him. "My lord, Satoru's right," Ryuichi said. "You've done enough today. Command us, and we'll do what needs doing."

He stared at the blurring faces of his men, and was finally forced to concede. "Camp at…Ganseki. Take the refugees there…en route to Ryuukama. Send them to…the city. Safe there still." He closed his eyes and swallowed against the dizziness. "Sleep," he mumbled. "Need…sleep."

"Then rest here, Your Grace," Matsuo exhorted him. "We'll watch over you."

"No." He opened his eyes and glowered at his knights, or at the furry shapes he assumed were his knights. "No, you must…take them there. Protect them. Demons still loose. Leave me here. I will…follow."

"But my lord—" Ryuichi began, but Hatori cut him off. "This is what…I command."

The three knights glanced at one another over his drooping head, then Satoru turned and barked an order at the other men. Someone produced a blanket and spread it out under a tree, and they guided Hatori toward it and laid him down upon it, with Satoru's own cape as a makeshift pillow. The ebony stallion ambled closer and nuzzled his head affectionately, fully intending to watch over his master. Hatori struggled against the pulling tide of darkness for as long as he could while the knights herded the refugees deeper into the forest. Finally, Satoru came and knelt beside him. "Sleep, my lord," he murmured as he laid Hatori's sword beside him, with his hand upon the hilt. "We will wait for you at Ganseki."

Hatori caught at his sleeve. "Send for me…if you receive word," he hissed.

_If you receive word about my daughter._

Satoru nodded, understanding fully. "I will, my lord. Sleep well."

And Hatori closed his eyes and knew no more.

-------------------------------

Author's Notes:

Mwahahaha! maniacal laughter I did it! I've kicked my writer's block out the door. It's stewing outside my window right now, waiting for a chance to sidle back in, but for the moment…I'm free!

Ahem. Sorry about that, but I'm jumping for joy right now over finally having written something more complicated than a grocery list. It's been months! Geez!

For waiting for months and months and months and for still continuing to read and review, even that dumb author's note…thank you so much, everyone. You know who you are: purplemoon250, January Marlinquin (I had so much fun reading your reviews), Ina-chan (thanks for putting the story in the C2 community), monsnite (um, I probably can't afford your funeral bills, sorry ;), trillium , Rachael, poplollyblues, Raberba girl, Starpiper Clover, shardingtoby (whom I owe for more than just the Prince of Snows, thanks for reading my fic!), Alix, Chrysta Rose Meinke (Kagura-Kyo coming later, promise), and all you guys who read and reviewed (sorry if I didn't mention you, my boss passed by while I was listing down your names). And of course, to R Junkie: thank you forever for your help in kicking me into gear. I hope to return the favor some day.

And thanks too to all the well-wishers. It's been chaos, but hey.

I had a lot of trouble with the chapter with Momiji and Arisa. I don't have access to the manga (I've completely lost track of the FB storyline) and rely only on the anime, which doesn't show much interaction between Momiji and Arisa so I'd had to use my imagination. I tried my best to keep them in line; I hope it worked. Also, I gave Kana back to Hatori because I hate what Akito did to them and I wanted to see them together, even if it had to be in an AU. I hope I got Hatori down. And I hope you guys don't mind all those extra cast of characters popping up now and then.

Oh, and I'll be taking down the "Word from Our Sponsors" thing soon, just to maintain continuity, so don't be surprised if the story starts missing a chapter.

Coming up next: Kagura and Tohru, and Ayame to make an appearance at last. Book 3 is going to be as long as Book 2, probably. And yes, Yuki and Kyo and the cursed forest will be in it.

Thanks again everyone!


	34. Book 3, Chapter 41

- -

On a day much like every other day on the little farmstead, Farmer Watanabe stepped out and, with a cup of tea in one hand and a hat of woven reeds in the other, headed toward his customary place beneath the tree in the yard. Chickens paid little heed to him as they milled about scratching at the dirt, while from the barn came the seemingly constant bleating, mooing and whinnying demands to be fed. His destination was the sun-dappled bench where he could sit and sip his tea in relative peace. Fanning himself with the hat, he fixed his gaze upon the vegetable garden and the green-speckled rice fields, and let the familiar sounds of home wash over him.

Beginning with a crashing noise from somewhere inside the house, followed by a succession of equally loud screeching. "Mama! The pig's runnin' around in the house again!"

"Oh by the gods! Get that animal out of here! Watanabe!"

"Ugh! Stupid hog's tracked mud all over my futon! Ain't Father supposed t'fix that door to the pen?"

"Well, dummy, if you'd rolled up your futon—"

"Shut up, stupid!"

"Goro, don't call your sister stupid. This is your father's fault. Watanabe! Get in here, I said! Watanabe? Oh by the gods! Goro, get that damned pig out right now!"

There was a tremendous din as the pig attempted to elude capture, and for a moment the squealing of both pig and human filled the yard. Farmer Watanabe sipped his tea with the calm, almost monk-like composure of a grizzled veteran of countless Watanabe family skirmishes. The commotion inside the house soon came to a clanging, grunting climax, only to be replaced by the increasingly agitated animal noises coming from the barn.

"What's that racket? Oh by the gods, ain't the animals been fed yet? Watanabe! That useless old—Goro, go see to it. That cow needs to be milked."

"Why me? Make Naru do it."

"Nu-uh, Mama said you do it!"

"You do it!"

"_You_ do it!"

"Shut up, both of you! Where's Sen?"

"Yeah, make Sen do it. Stupid baby ought t'make herself useful for once."

"I saw her wandering out to the forest. Probably going t'visit that old pile of rocks again. Father _lets_ her, see."

"Oh by the gods. Watanabe, you lazy bag of bones! I thought I told you to get in here!"

Farmer Watanabe sighed as he watched a hawk circling lazily in the sky. Oh yes. A day just like every other day. Day after day after day—

A small noise interrupted his musings. His youngest, Sen, approached him, her hands clasped in front of her, her little face solemn. "Ah, there you are," he said placidly. "Your mother's lookin' for you."

"Father, you know that old stone guardian in the forest?"

He nodded.

"I saw somethin' there—"

A loud bang, followed by an agonized creak and finally a thud signaled the emergence of Mrs. Watanabe and the consequent demise of the farmstead's front door. He caught a glimpse of the door now hanging forlornly on its one remaining hinge before it was eclipsed by the apron-clad girth of his wife. Waddling behind her, like belligerent ducklings of a particularly martial species of duck, were his two elder children. She scowled at him, hands planted firmly on her hips, a pose that the children imitated right down to the gentle rippling of the extra folds of flesh on their waists, but not even the combined force of three identical glares could make a dent in Farmer Watanabe's rock-solid armor of tranquility.

Mrs. Watanabe took a deep breath. "Watanabe!" she bellowed at point-blank range. "You worthless excuse for a man! You good-for-nothing wretch! Look at you! I been workin' my hands to the bone since sun-up, mindin' your poor children, and here's you sittin' on your bum like some lazy sot from the city? What about them fields? What about them animals? What about your _wife_ and _children_?"

On and on she went, with Goro and Naru providing a background of synchronized nods and chorused "yeahs." Farmer Watanabe regarded them with a vaguely interested expression.

"Father?" Sen said.

Effortlessly tuning out his wife and two elder children, Farmer Watanabe turned toward his youngest, who was looking decidedly worried.

"I _saw _something, Father. Somethin' really strange."

"What do you mean, strange? That old statue in the woods?"

Sen nodded frantically. "I saw lots and lots of colored lights and the leaves were blowin' off the trees and the stone was glowin' and then I saw—"

"Hey, you!" Goro cut in rudely. "Runnin' away from your chores again, huh?"

"What're you babblin' about, anyway?" Naru demanded.

Sen paused only to cast an aggravated look at her siblings. "Father, _someone_ was _there_, he had pretty white hair and he was talkin' to the stone, at least I'm pretty _sure_ he was a 'he'—"

"Hah! Lil' baby's seein' ghosts again," Goro said snidely, elbowing Naru in the ribs.

"And you, Sen!" The little girl quailed at the looming presence of Mrs. Watanabe in full fury. "Didn't I tell you not to wander around in the forest? Didn't I tell you!"

"_Oya__, oya!_ Is this any way to treat the emissary of the Great Kandora, Sorcerer Supreme of the Mystic and Erudite Order of the Rainbow-Aura'd Serpent of Light and the Grand Protector of the Sacred Fires of Lord Akkan the Sun God?"

Dust and feathers flew up in a sudden gust of wind, filling the entire yard with the scent of roses. Shards of rainbow-colored light flashed, forcing the Watanabes to shade their eyes against the brilliance. The dramatic strains of trumpet and violin music rode above the wind, and from the feathered, multi-hued haze a gleaming figure in scarlet and white emerged, arms raised in transcendent salutation.

Loud gasps and squeals of astonishment escaped Mrs. Watanabe and her brood of three. Even Farmer Watanabe's mask of amiable disinterest slipped for a moment.

As the dust and feathers settled and the sparkling rainbows faded back into ordinary sunlight, the figure revealed itself to be a tall young man whose strange yellow eyes shone bright against his pale face and the snowy tresses that reached well past his back. Over white silk robes he wore a long, flowing coat of scarlet velvet embroidered with silvery serpents twining sinuously around one another, and adorned with gold buttons shaped like suns. He held his pose for a moment longer, reveling in his effect upon his audience, while for some reason the heraldic music continued to play in the background. The source of the music, the Watanabes soon discovered, was less mystical than mechanical: A wagon stood by the roadside, drawn by a pair of horses—also snow-white—and covered with oilcloth painted a glossy scarlet and studded with rhinestones in vaguely serpentine patterns. A rectangular device sat atop small table beside the wagon, and the music blared from a funnel-shaped attachment. At the sight of the device, the slightly _tinny_ quality of the music registered, but it detracted only somewhat from the overall impression of a scarlet and white whirling dervish blown in from the land of rose-scented incense and mind-altering substances.

Farmer Watanabe was the first to blink. The thought occurred to him that, being the head of the household and all, he ought to make some sort of statement about the situation. He stood up and cleared his throat. "Whuu-hoo—"

The stranger swept low in a gallant bow, one hand pressed upon his chest. "No, allow me to explain. I have been journeying far and wide on a quest to save the world from doom and utter destruction at the hands of one who would summon the darkness upon us all, if not for the lonely yet noble efforts of the heroes of Light such as I. Many villages have I passed through though never to stay, and many good people have I met though never for more than a mere shadow's brush against shadow, but still I journeyed on, valiantly facing hardship, danger and the scorn of the ignorant in the pursuit of my goal…"

Four pairs of Watanabe eyes glazed over as the stranger launched headlong into his tale as though he were standing on a stage. It was better than a stage, in fact. Farmer Watanabe had seen only a handful of wandering performers in his lifetime, but he couldn't recall seeing anyone who produced their own theatrical bursts of light and eldritch tendrils of smoke on cue.

He looked over at his youngest. "He said he was a mage," Sen said, shrugging.

"…braving the perils of the astral realm armed with my strength of will, my quick wit and my unsurpassed knowledge of sorcery in order to summon the legendary artifact from its slumber…"

Goro had by now recovered enough to snort derisively. "That ain't no mage, stupid. Everyone knows that mages are white-haired old men with beards."

"And flowin' robes and such," added Naru. "And they're supposed t'be very wise."

They stared at the stranger.

"Well," Sen said uncertainly, "maybe he's a very _young_ mage."

"…have found, after traversing many treacherous paths and courageously fighting my way through demonic hordes, that the answer lay in an ancient, forgotten mystical tradition…"

The stranger continued to wax passionate, and Farmer Watanabe entertained the jaded thought that the man was his own best audience. A sensation of crackling hostility from somewhere beside him registered, and Farmer Watanabe peered out of the corner of his eye at his darling wife, who stood with eyes flaring, jowls quivering and cheeks purpling like a pair of eggplants. Mrs. Watanabe was unforgiving toward those who could beat her in her best event, and he found himself wincing in sympathy at the bout of temporary deafness the stranger was about to be afflicted with. If she could get a word in edgewise, that is.

Of course, she might decide not bother with it altogether. She sucked in a breath. "Shut your yappin', you loony, and tell us what in gods' name you doin' trespassin' on our property!"

To Farmer Watanabe's amazement, the strange young man wasn't the least bit fazed. "How rude," he sniffed, flipping his hair back. "I was just getting to the part where you come in. It's a fascinating story, isn't it? I could tell you much, much more, but unfortunately time is running out even as I stand—"

"Mister—" Farmer Watanabe tried to interject before his wife did.

"—brings me to the moment when I came upon the statue in the woods, where, incidentally, this little girl found me in the middle of a mystic rite that I'm sure wouldn't interest you at all—"

"I said—" Mrs. Watanabe growled.

"Mister—"

"—tell me about that old statue in the forest."

The Watanabes blinked at the sudden silence. The stranger waited patiently for three seconds, then impatiently for the next three, then opened his mouth again.

"It's really old," Sen blurted out with admirable presence of mind. "Really, really old."

The stranger arched an eyebrow, then in one smooth move lifted the shocked little girl's hand and bent low over it, beaming his intense yellow gaze right at her. "I _know_ it's old, hmm?" he said in a voice topped with cream. "I could see that for myself. All right!" He straightened in a swirl of scarlet and white. "Can anyone give me a better answer than this little girl here? Anyone?"

"Well, it's—" Farmer Watanabe began hesitantly, then leaned back when both the stranger and his wife speared him with their gazes.

"Yes? Yes?" the stranger urged him.

"Watanabe, you shut up right now," his wife begged to disagree.

The stranger shot an oblique glance at Mrs. Watanabe that nevertheless seemed seemed to take in the entirety of situation. At least, it seemed that way to the already slightly frazzled Farmer Watanabe, who thought that the stranger's yellow eyes, when they were turned on him again, glowed just a bit brighter, gleaming with a knowledgeable—and opportunistic—light.

In that moment, Farmer Watanabe was prepared to believe that this curious young man who looked for all the world as if he were wearing a scarlet and white nightdress was truly what he said he was: The Great Mage Kandykandy or Whoever.

Ignoring his wife's outraged spluttering, Farmer Watanabe stepped forward. "That old stone guardian's been there for thousands o'years, Mister Mage. That's what my granddad said. He said the old tribes used to worship them stone statues as if they were gods or somethin', and that those guardians were once mighty powerful things. He also told me that those old stone guardians deserve our respect and rev'rence—" he shot his wife a look of almost desperate defiance "—'cause even now they still protects those homes that live close to 'em."

"There are many of them, then?"

Farmer Watanabe shrugged. "Dunno, really. My granddad said there were ten o' them scattered in different places. Ten or twelve or fifteen, right around that number."

"I see, I see," the stranger murmured, nodding. "However, the statue's so old, I can't make out what it's supposed to be."

"Dunno what it's—"

"It's a snake," Sen piped up, looking relieved at finally contributing something. "You could tell from the bit that looks like a coiled-up tail."

The stranger smiled widely. "A snake! A lucky stone snake, _ne_?"

"Huh," Mrs. Watanabe scoffed. "Nobody believes that superstitious nonsense, you old fool. And everyone knows your granddad wasn't right in the head, especially near the end."

The wounded silence didn't even get a chance to breathe. "Manly Romance!" the stranger roared in flamboyant non sequitur, throwing his hands in the air. "No matter where I go, through hill and farm, town and city, by moonless sky or scorching sun, the dreams never die. They live on in the secret fevered sighs in the night—white silk, creamy satin, delicate chiffon, feathers, plumes, lace, furs! The freedom to live your dreams! The freedom to let your secret self soar to the stars in fearless glory! Manly Romance!" The man was almost dancing at this point while the four Watanabes gaped at him with faint alarm. He halted abruptly right in front of Farmer Watanabe, who had to force himself not to jump back. "My thanks, Sir Farmer," the stranger stage-whispered to him. "My thanks are in your pocket."

Farmer Watanabe blinked, and sure enough, the pocket of his worn breeches did feel…occupied. The stranger then leaned back and winked at the now-grinning Sen. "When we meet again, you and I shall see the sights! Farewell, good people! Ha ha ha!"

In a final starburst of rainbow light and puffy, pink clouds of smoke, the stranger leaped up to his wagon and spurred his horses onwards. They watched him disappear down the road in a cloud of dust, his "ha-ha-has" fading into the distance, then Mrs. Watanabe sniffed, brushed at her apron and spun around. "That's got rid of _that_," she declared, as though by standing there and looking menacing she had singlehandedly driven away the intruder, with no help at all from her husband.

"What a loopy-head," Naru muttered, shaking her head.

"Yeah. Stinks like a girl, too," Goro added, before the two of them turned and waddled back to the house, following faithfully in their mother's footsteps.

Farmer Watanabe and his youngest stood in the yard, still gazing down the road. "He was…" She screwed up her face with effort. "He was…something. Wasn't he, Father?"

He reached down into his pocket and pulled out the object that had certainly not been there three minutes ago. The object was a small rectangular card, one side of which was mostly blue, except for one corner, which had some sort of very flat sparkly sequins pasted all over it, and the bottom part, which featured a stylized pink rose. In the center of the card, painted in vivid pink, was a single word: Ayame.

He turned the card over. It was a map of the City of Ryuukama (he figured it out from the neat illustration of the city and the cute, wide-eyed dragon fluttering in one corner), with an X drawn on a spot above one of the streets.

_When we meet again_, the stranger had said.

He stared at the card.

"Father?" He turned toward his youngest. "About that stone guardian in the forest? I believe you," Sen said earnestly. "I always have, Father, even before that mage came along."

He patted her head benevolently, then gazed out into the distance. Hmm. Yes. A bit of a holiday, perhaps? He could take Sen with him. Yes. What would be the harm in that?

"Manly romance," he muttered underneath his breath. And smiled.

* * *

(Peers cautiously over the edge of the manhole to check for presence of irate, impatient and completely justified readers. Ducks out of sight again.)

(Raises a series of signs ala Genma-panda.)

Sign 1: I'm so sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!

Sign 2: Yes, I'm alive. Still. Will wonders never cease?

Sign 3: I had a bit of trouble deciding how to introduce Ayame. After several false starts, I tried asking myself, what sort of man would ever need Ayame's kind of services? Only then did I really get started.

Sign 4: I posted this raw. As in first draft of the chapter. So truly sorry for the errors;I'll try to fix them up soon.

Sign 5: Despite his flakiness and, well, weirdness, I really like Ayame and I think he's not really as big an airhead as he comes off. I mean, he's still a businessman, right? That means he must have some brains somewhere.

Sign 6: I'm working on the Kagura-Tohru chapter right now. Pinky-swear.

Sign 7: Again, I'm really sorry for the LAAAAAAAAAAAAATE (can you say 'late'?) update and thank you for still reading. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

(Pulls down last sign, looks up again, and drops back with a yelp, followed by a flurry of eggs, rotten tomatoes, worn-out shoes and balled-up newspapers.)


	35. Book 3, Chapter 42

- -

She drifted somewhere between waking and unending sleep. Darkness slid over her, encasing her in a velvety cocoon of numbness. She welcomed it gladly. The darkness sheltered her, offering her refuge from all fear, grief and regret. It promised her peace beyond all memory; it whispered to her of home.

Home. She had been searching for it for so long. She thought she'd found it, but she was wrong, and even the home she believed was hers was lost to her now. So much had been lost. So much…

She was tired. So tired. Now the darkness had come for her, and she would follow.

_I promised him…_

The darkness changed. It was a subtle shift, like the sound of a heartbeat in the dead of the night. She grew aware of it, and instantly resisted. She didn't want to _be _aware. She didn't want to know, didn't want to feel. And she didn't, she didn't, she didn't want to remember.

But remember she did. Memories hounded her like beggar children, sidling into her consciousness one by one, then more and more until a tangled montage of scenes and emotions crowded around her, devoid of sense, order or mercy. Scenes from her childhood, full of bittersweetness and poignancy; the faces of her mother, her father, her beloved friends and family—they blurred before her, demanding her attention. She tried to burrow deeper into the darkness but the memories tugged at her insistently. And somewhere beyond the memories, it seemed to her that a voice spoke to her, calling her back. But she didn't want to go back.

_I promised him…_

It was raining a lot. No, there was a storm, a series of storms. And people were angry. The streets where she and her mother used to walk were draped with red. Shigure looked so worried. Momiji too. And Haru was lost. He'd left on some errand and never came home.

She whimpered. The voice was still there, coaxing her. She tried to fight off the onslaught of recollection, but her limbs felt oddly weighted down, so she wept instead.

There was…a journey. Uo-chan was there, and five men. Men in armor, kind and brave. An empty town boiling with grotesque life. Nightmarish figures pursuing her through shadows. A poisoned desert. Faces gazing beyond her with such terrible peace that it hurt her to see. Blue-white fire, bringing with it unbearable pain. A forest full of malice. And in that forest, a little cave rising in a patch of white flowers. A home. A friend. A brother.

_Yuki._

Fur brushed against her hand, and joy pierced her like a shaft of pure sunlight. She turned to it with an eager little cry. A warm, furry body pressed against her cheek, making her smile. Through the clamoring multitude of ghostly images, a pair of violet eyes smiled back.

Then the eyes turned gray and cold and cruel. And behind them, another pair of eyes watched her. Inhuman eyes, the eyes of a monster. She writhed in terror, trying to get away, and pain exploded in the region of her chest. The voice returned, speaking urgently, and the pain receded until she lay still, exhausted.

Darkness returned like an old friend. She listened to the distant sound of a heartbeat, letting the darkness wash over her in soothing waves, drawing her in deeper, lulling her to sleep. To sleep and finally, finally, to forget.

Then the other voice—the voice that stayed with her in the silence, holding her back from the beckoning darkness—the voice spoke again, and she knew deep in her soul that it was hers.

_No, I promised him. I won't ever forget…Yuki-kun..._

The darkness lightened to a murky gray fog, and for some reason her back began to ache. As the sea of unconsciousness gradually released her, she thought she felt the loving brush of her mother's fingers upon her brow.

Tohru opened her eyes. A warm, wet, softly snuffling snout met her gaze.

"Aaah!"

"Bweek!"

She jerked sideways until she was pressed almost vertical against the wall, barely noticing the uneven and slightly coarse feel of cloth spread over straw underneath her. Her assailant, on the other hand, shot straight up into the air and rolled head over heels until he hit the opposite wall. After a moment that consisted mostly of Tohru getting her breath back and a muffled grunt from the twitching brown heap across her, several previously overlooked details drew her attention, foremost of which was the fact that her would-be attacker was a bit too small for a vicious demon out for her blood. And that—and this was quickly rising up in the ranks of importance—her back, or at least those parts of it that weren't throbbing dully with pain, seemed a bit drafty.

"Oh dear," said a voice that was trying not to laugh.

A girl was bent half-in and half-out of the cave's entrance, holding a sack in one hand and a bow in the other. She shuffled in, bending beneath the low ceiling of the cave, and knelt beside Tohru. "Keero, you bad boar," she scolded over her shoulder. "You're supposed to be guarding her, not scaring her half to death. Tohru-kun, are you all right? He didn't hurt you, didn't he?"

If her face managed to look any more astonished, Tohru had no doubt she'd be feeling around for her eyeballs by now. Sunlight streaming in from the cave's entrance fell fully upon the girl, illuminating shoulder-length hair as dark as her own, wide ash-brown eyes full of concern, and a creamy, oval face that still bore traces of the soft roundness of childhood. The girl was surprisingly pretty, but far more surprising was the fact that the girl seemed to know who she was, despite being, at least as far as Tohru was concerned, a complete stranger.

"Tohru-kun?"

"Oh!" Tohru gasped, suddenly realizing that she'd been staring quite openly at the girl. "Ah, no, he didn't—did you say 'boar'?" She peered around at her would-be attacker, who was now sitting on his haunches with his back to them, the very picture of injured innocence.

The girl sighed as she followed her gaze. "Yes, Keero's a wild boar. When I found him, he still had those stripes that baby boars have. Mm, he doesn't seem to be growing much, does he? I'm starting to think he might be the runt of his family." Upright ears flicking in annoyance, the little brown piglet turned and gave his mistress an amazingly _expressive_ look. The girl giggled, and even Tohru smiled.

"He's adorable," she admitted. "I'm sorry I scared you, Keero. I was surprised, that's all."

The girl laughed again. "Don't worry about it, Tohru-kun. Keero's tougher than that. Oh I'm so glad you've woken up. I was starting to worry. Well…" She tilted her head to the side and looked Tohru up and down. "You _seem_ fine, but how are you _really_ feeling?"

"Eh?" She didn't know where she was or how she got here. She was talking to a girl she'd never seen before who knew her by name. Her back and chest hurt, and her mind felt as sharp as a sack of wet cotton. And the back of her dress—she'd done some surreptitious feeling around behind her—appears to have been torn from collar to waist. She bit her lip as she considered her situation, then decided to go for broke. "I do feel better, all in all. At least I—I remember feeling a whole lot worse. Um, thank you for taking care of me, ah…"

The girl gave a start. "Oh, what a dummy. I've been calling you 'Tohru-kun' for a long time now, I've forgotten that _you_ don't know _me_. My name is Kagura, and, well, you've met Keero, _ne_?"

Something stirred in the back of Tohru's mind, but it was muffled by the layers of sludge her thoughts seemed to be mired in. Well, whatever it was, she supposed it could wait. "Thank you, Kagura-san. But…_anoo_…"

Kagura shook her head. "It's all right, Tohru-kun. You're still tired. _W_hy don't you lie down and rest a bit? I've got enough tubers and wild cabbage for a soup—oh, on your stomach, please. You've got a nasty cut on your back, see. I'm sorry about your dress, but I had to keep the cloth out of the way when I stitched you up." She moved about as she spoke, setting the sack beside a firepit that had been artfully ringed with colorful pebbles and a few stones, and then proceeded to, well, disarm herself. Tohru watched in amazement as Kagura leaned her hunting bow and her quiver of arrows against the wall, then removed her dark gray cloak and folded it neatly in a corner, then undid the strap of the dagger from her thigh. Underneath the cloak, she wore a simple yellow tunic that was belted at her waist with a leather cord, skin-tight black leggings and a pair of boots. When Kagura noticed Tohru's gaze upon the pouch hanging from her belt, she untied it to show her the contents. "Exploding balls," she explained. "Like fireworks, only much messier."

Tohru blinked at the collection of multicolored, sequin-encrusted spheres. "They're so pretty."

"Yes, that's Aya-chan's style," Kagura said with a sigh. "He's the only one I know who'd take a broadsword and put lace edging around it. You'll know what I mean when you meet him."

"Aya-chan?"

Kagura waved a hand. "Oh, he calls himself by this great, long name, but I just call him either Aya-chan or 'the mage.' He's the one who told me about y—oh no, I'm getting ahead of myself, am I?" She slapped a hand against her forehead and gave Tohru an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. In any case, there'll be time enough for questions and explanations when you're feeling better, _ne_?"

"Bwee," snorted Keero, who seemed to have forgiven Tohru enough to lie down beside her.

"Hey, I can too be patient," Kagura countered indignantly, giving her pet a mock-glare. "I was patient with you when you broke into that vegetable shop and ate all the onions, wasn't I? I was patient with Aya-chan when he paraded through town in a ball gown, wasn't I? In fact, I've been nothing but patient all these years! Years and years of being patient with him and loving him and taking care of him like a proper bride should! I waited and waited for him to marry me like he promised, and what does that macho, unappreciative idiot do? He runs off on some stupid quest and disappears!"

Tohru stared in open-mouthed shock. The sweet, cheery Kagura of a few minutes ago had vanished, and in her place was an amazon warrior in ascendant fury, face flushed and eyes blazing with a wild light, both fists gripping two colored stones until her knuckles shone white. The air around her was practically rippling. Nearby, Keero made a noise midway between a sigh and a whimper and immediately tried to burrow into the straw underneath the sheet. Tohru noticed his movements and wondered nervously if she shouldn't be doing the same thing.

"He just goes and disappears off the face of the earth!" the avenging angel that had once been Kagura ranted. "And now it's up to me to find him and bring him back! Why? Because I'm his bride and no matter what he says, that's what a proper bride does! I should have chained him to my bed when I had the chance! That idiot! Idiot! Kyo-kun, YOU IDIOT!"

With a final wrathful howl, Kagura raised her fists and the stones crumbled in her hands. That and the soft, distressed sound from Tohru seemed to bring Kagura back to her senses. She blinked at the pebbled remains trickling through her fingers, went "ah" very faintly, and sank down to the ground in mortification. "I'm sorry," she said weakly. "Sometimes I get carried away by my feelings. It was bad enough before Kyo-kun left, but now he's gone and I—sometimes it's all I can do to keep from—oh." She sniffled and pressed a finger against her lip to stop its trembling. "I'm sorry. It doesn't happen a lot. Only when I think about…about…"

"Bwee."

A wet snout nuzzled her thigh. Kagura sniffed again and frowned down at her pet, but Keero was paying absolutely no heed to her. She looked up and gasped.

Tohru was sitting up with both arms wrapped around herself, shivering uncontrollably. Her face, which was still pale from her ordeal, had turned so white that it looked as if it had been painted on. She was staring fixedly at nothing, and the heartbroken sorrow Kagura saw in the wide, sea-blue eyes sent a chill through her.

"I—I left them behind," Tohru whispered distantly, sinking into the pit of memories that had opened up beneath her mental fog. "I had to..."

_Even if it's that damned Yuki you really want. I won't let you be alone in this place._

"I promised to come back. I promised to save them. I _promised_ him."

"Tohru-kun?" Kagura called worriedly.

_I remembered you, Honda-san. I always will._

"They wanted to protect me." Tohru's breath caught, then emerged in a short, thin scream. To Kagura's profound shock, she covered her face with her hands and shrank against the wall of the cave, curling herself up into a trembling ball. "They'll kill me," she moaned piteously. "Monsters...they're _monsters_!"

"Tohru-kun!"

Slim, strong arms closed around her, pulling her from the shifting quicksand of memories. She resisted for a moment, then shuddered and went slack. The protective mental fog cleared, leaving her feeling exposed and completely helpless, and with a sigh Tohru gave in to her tears.

Reality gradually returned. She found herself half-sitting across Kagura's lap with her head on her shoulder, while Kagura rocked her gently, humming a tuneless little song. A warm, furry weight against her own legs turned out to be Keero trying his own way to comfort her. For a moment, she could almost pretend that she was back in her mother's arms, and the thought made her smile. _How strange_, she thought, moving her head so that her gaze fell upon the healing crescent-shaped cuts on her arms. _After all that's happened, how can I still smile like this? _

_The important thing is to choose to live_.

_I'm sorry._ She closed her eyes, tasting the salty-bitter tang of her tears. _I'm so sorry._

_Don't be,_ said another voice inside her, filling her with a sweet warmth. _Don't ever be sorry about what you feel._

She smiled again, thinking of pale skin and silvery hair and moonlight shining through amethysts.

_Don't cry, Honda-san. Nothing here is worth your tears._

_Maybe not, Yuki-kun_, she answered silently. _But worth my will to live, I think_.

And in her mind, a pair of violet eyes smiled back, a smile reflected in a red-haired boy's rare, crooked grin, and a kitchen-boy's shy giggle. _I remember you all, _she thought, feeling her spirit rouse deep within her, giving her strength_. I will never forget, and I will never give up._

Suddenly realizing that she was still draped half-naked over Kagura's front, blubbering more or less continuously into the other girl's tunic, Tohru "eeped" and tried to straighten up, but succeeded only in outbalancing all three of them. When they finally managed to disentangle themselves from the ensuing jumble of arms, legs and hooves, Tohru sat back and bowed low, face aflame with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Kagura-san. You've taken such good care of me, and here I go crying all over you like this. And I'm sorry for knocking Keero over, too. Again."

Kagura stared, then burst out laughing. "Tohru-kun," she burbled, "are you apologizing to _me_ for that tiny, little outburst?"

Tohru looked up, caught the self-deprecating light in Kagura's ash-brown eyes, and started to laugh as well. The loud rumbling of Tohru's stomach, echoed surprisingly by Kagura's, made them laugh even harder, to the aching dismay of Tohru's still-bruised ribs. Keero sat back, brown eyes darting back and forth between his barely-sane mistress and her equally batty companion, then turned his back on them with a huff of disgust.

"Oh my," Kagura gasped, wiping at her eyes. "Well, I guess I should start on on that soup while there's still daylight left. You must be starving. It's been three days after all."

"Eh? I've been out that long?"

Kagura nodded. "You were very badly hurt, Tohru-kun. For some time in fact I thought you weren't going to make it. It was almost as if…you didn't want to wake up. But then you started fighting back and now you're awake and even laughing." She gave the other girl an impressed and undeniably curious look. "Of course, I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from the only person who's ever escaped from the cursed forest.'"

"_Haaa,_" was all Tohru could say. She stared down at the cuts on her arms again. _I could have died_, she thought, feeling chilled. _I could have died so many times: in Mizaka, in that town, the Deadlands, the cursed forest. Akito could have killed me. K-kyo-kun could have—_

"_Ne_, Tohru-kun, what _did_ happen in the cursed forest?"

_Kyo-kun would have—no, no, I won't accept it, I _won't_— _

"Bwee?"

Tohru found herself looking down the length of Keero's snout and into anxious brown eyes. The piglet nuzzled her leg and grunted softly again, surprising a laugh out of her. She sighed inwardly, berating herself for wallowing in such grim reminiscences. She had to keep her footing, had to keep believing somehow. If she gave in to the fear, then Akito would have surely won.

She just wished she wasn't so alone.

Kagura watched the emotions chase one another across Tohru's face, and felt immediately remorseful. _The girl's just woken up, for _Kami_'s sake!_ a voice in her mind scolded her. It sounded gallingly like Kyo, and Keero's vaguely accusing glances weren't helping either. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "That was so rude of me. Um, maybe I should just get on with that soup, _ne_?"

"Kagura-san?"

"Hmm?" Kagura uncovered a small cooking pot full of water and inspected it carefully.

Tohru took a deep breath. "Kagura-san, you said you were…looking for Kyo-kun, weren't you?"

Kagura felt her heart almost literally stop beating. _No!_ she told herself fiercely, fighting back the intense emotion, the dreaded compulsion to release all control and let the darker persona within her take what it wanted. _No, I said! It might be nothing, just like all those so-called 'leads' before._ Nevertheless, she carefully put the lid of the pot down and, feeling the weight of Keero's watchful stare upon her, picked up the last colored stone beside the firepit and grasped it tightly. "Yes. Kyo-kun is my fiancé, you see," she explained evenly. "He went off on a quest months ago and disappeared. Some say he and his companions have been killed, some say he'd been kidnapped by Mizakan authorities. I've been traveling for nearly as long trying to learn the truth. I intend to find him, Tohru-kun, and I intend to _bring_…_him_…_back_."

"Bwee," Keero grunted warningly, and she immediately loosened her grip upon the stone, bowing in reflexive shame. Kami_, please don't let me lose it now_, she prayed.

Tohru, however, showed no sign of wariness or disgust at Kagura's near-explosion. She nodded, sea-blue eyes full of gentle understanding. "You love him," she murmured almost to herself.

Kagura met her gaze. "No one else can ever love Kyo-kun as much as I can, Tohru-kun. No one."

Tohru smiled at that, then bit her lip as another thought occurred to her. "_A-anoo_, Kagura-san, were you really waiting for me outside the cursed forest?"

Kagura nodded. "Aya-chan told me to do it. For a time he and I traveled together, and he told me this long and involved story about a long-lost prince named—"

"Yuki-kun," Tohru whispered.

Kagura gave her a lopsided smile. "I call him 'Yun-chan' myself. Aya-chan talked so much about him whenever we were alone, so now I feel as if I knew him personally." She peered at the unfocused expression on Tohru's face, and sighed. "_Ne_, Tohru-kun, wouldn't you like to eat something before we talk?"

Tohru shook her head. "Thank you, but I think there's something I have to tell you first."

"What's that?" Kagura found herself gripping her stone again.

"I met Kyo-kun—"

There was a thud and a clatter as Keero, displaying almost superporcine agility, threw himself at Kagura's middle, knocking her backward. Nevertheless, Kagura managed to keep herself mostly upright, her fingers gouging deep crevasses into the stony earth. She raised her head slowly toward Tohru, ash-brown eyes sparking like miniature thunderstorms. "You. Met. Kyo-kun!"

"Y-yes!" Tohru squeaked, forcing herself to keep from scaling the wall with her shoulderblades.

The stone underwent accelerated entropy in Kagura's fist. "Tell me," she growled through a swirling aura of concentrated ardor. "Tell me where he is—"

"Bwee!"

"I _am_ calm, dammit!" Kagura bellowed, then shuddered and buried her head in her hands. There was a long, drawn-out sound that could have been a sigh or a very quiet wail, and when Kagura looked up again, Tohru was stunned to find the girl looking fairly normal, except for the tears streaming down her face. "Please?" she said hoarsely. "Please, Tohru-kun. Tell me."

Without a thought, Tohru crawled toward the stricken girl and put her arms around her, just as Kagura did for her minutes before. "He's alive, Kagura-san," she said softly. "He's been imprisoned in the cursed forest by a dark sorcerer."

"Oh Kami, that sounds like Aya-chan's story," Kagura groaned.

Tohru smiled brightly. "Ah, then maybe the reason Aya-chan told you to wait for me is so I can tell you _my_ part of the story_, ne_?"

She told Kagura about the capture of Kyo and the slaughter of his companions, about the lake and the tower and the dungeon, about Akito and the nightly battles for Kyo's freedom. She told her about his curse and how a small, fire-colored cat could live in a forest full of monsters—

"A cat!" Kagura squealed, clapping her hands together. "He turns into a little orange cat? Oh, he must be so cute!"

"Yes, he is," Tohru agreed laughingly, remembering her own reactions toward Yuki, although she doubted that Kyo would have tolerated Kagura's affections as well as Yuki did hers. "He acts like Kyo-kun, too, even though he can't talk in his cat-form."

She spoke about Yuki and his curse, about the deadly rivalry between the two and Akito's manipulations of them, including Ritsu the kitchen-boy. She recounted, with a fond smile, the nights she spent with Kyo, how he made her an enchanted tea to get rid of her fever, how he tried to teach her how to do magic—

"Magic?" Kagura interrupted again. "But Kyo-kun doesn't—oh, the healing prayers! Nana Asako taught him some rituals. She taught both of us, actually, but Kyo-kun's always been better at it than me."

Tohru winced, remembering Kyo's insistence upon the subject. "_Etooo_, yes. That's what I meant. I'm sorry."

The light outside faded from turquoise to reddish-gold to depthless indigo. Kagura lit the fire in the firepit and set the soup to boiling, then rolled a couple of extra tubers over to the squealing Keero. Tohru sipped at her soup and stared into the fire, wrestling with herself.

"Tohru-kun?"

Hands gripping her crude, wooden bowl tightly, willing herself to face her memories head-on, Tohru told Kagura about her last night in the cursed forest. When it was over, Kagura was silent. Tohru looked at her, puzzled by the haunted yet oddly unsurprised expression on her face.

"Child of sorrow." Kagura covered her eyes with one shaking hand. "It's come to that, has it?"

Tohru nodded.

"You saw, Tohru-kun?"

Tohru knew what she meant. She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting down the image of glowing reptilian eyes gazing at her with such murderous hunger, with nothing but the desire not just to end her life, but to cause her pain again and again before he did. "Yes," she whispered.

"He _knew_." Kagura's voice had thickened, as though she were struggling to speak through a lifetime of sobbing. "Akito _knew_. But how could he know? How could he trigger it so easily?"

Tohru watched her mutely. _No horror_, she noted with wonder and deepening admiration. _No disgust, no denial. She knows what he is, and she accepts it. She's afraid for him. A love like hers…oh, Kagura-san…_

"You don't know what it means, do you?"

She shook her head.

Kagura lowered her hand, and Tohru thought she suddenly looked much older. "Kyo-kun is cursed, Tohru-kun. But you knew that, _ne_?" she said with a little laugh devoid of humor. "Among our people, to call one a 'child of sorrow' is to curse him. A child of sorrow is someone whose father or mother rejected him so completely that they chose to end their lives rather than be with him. If the mere fact that you exist drove your parents to their deaths, then you're cursed to be a child of sorrow. It's worse when it's your mother who dies. To the Ashari, motherhood is sacred, you see. Kami is as a Mother to us all. At least, that's what the old folks used to say."

_Tell her about your curse, child of sorrow. Tell her what you really are. _Akito's words returned, full of cunning menace and dark mockery. "And Kyo-kun?" Tohru asked faintly.

"Kyo-kun's mother died when he was seven," Kagura answered. "She…wasn't well, I think. His father left years before, and she was never the same again. She said she loved him. She said she was proud of him. So much that one rainy day Kyo-kun came home and found her hanging from the rafters."

Tohru turned toward the fire, but the images Kagura painted so starkly wouldn't leave her mind. Of the child Kyo-kun had been, of his mother dead by her own hand, of the knowledge that was seared into his mind, of the shame, the anger, the betrayal. Pain flashed through her heart for the fiery-spirited boy she'd met in a forest. _Oh, Kyo-kun._

Kagura shifted as well, her ash-brown eyes looking almost dreamy if not for the dull sheen of sorrow. "Tradition says an orphaned child may choose his new family from the rest of the tribe. But no one would have him. I was nine years old then, and I'd have gone on my knees before everyone if I thought it would work. Of course, Kyo-kun would never have forgiven me. I would have asked him to marry me—" she laughed ruefully again, "—but we were too young. If Nana Asako had been there, she could have taken him in, but she'd gone on a journey and didn't come home in time. The elders would have banished him from the tribe, but Kazuma-cho, our chieftain, chose to adopt him instead. He almost lost his position as shuucho because of that, but Kazuma-cho stood his ground. We owe him so much, Kyo-kun and I," she finished quietly.

The fire crackled as Kagura fed it another stick. "Kagura-san, how does the curse work?" Tohru finally asked.

Kagura shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen his cursed form. The elders just kept hinting at it, making remarks and all, but they always make remarks. I think part of me didn't want to believe in the curse, but from what you've told me, the curse is real."

_Tell her how it feels to murder the person you should have revered more than life itself_.

"And Akito knew. He—he _understood_," Tohru muttered. Kagura merely frowned at the fire.

They cleaned up the remains of the soup and stoked the fire, then Kagura made Tohru lie down again so she could rub a poultice on her back. "I did my best, but my prayers of imbuing aren't as potent as Kyo-kun's," Kagura said while Keero dozed off beside Tohru. "I can do prayers of protection, though. Mm, but maybe not very well, either."

"It feels wonderful, Kagura-san," Tohru reassured her. "Thank you so much."

Kagura finished her ministrations and sat back. "_Ne_, Tohru-kun," she said after a while. "Do you think you can get back inside the cursed forest again?"

"I'm not sure," Tohru replied honestly.

"Even with the Sun Stone?"

Her head snapped toward Kagura. "H-how did you know—?"

"Aya-chan," she said, as if that explained everything. "So…um, what will you do now?"

Tohru bit her lip as she thought about it. "I have to go to Ryuukama. There's a little girl who's waiting for me there. And—and I think I can find out more about the cursed forest in Ryuukama."

"Ryuukama," Kagura murmured. "That sounds right. Aya-chan mentioned going to Ryuukama before." _As long as it's not Mizaka_, she thought to herself. _Then again, I'd march straight to hell if it'd help me get Kyo-kun back_.

The two girls gazed at the fire for a long moment, both of them sunk in their own thoughts. Finally, Tohru spoke again. "I'm going back for him."

"I'm going to save him," Kagura announced at the same time.

They looked at each other in surprise, then they both laughed. "Did you mean Kyo-kun, Kagura-san?" Tohru asked innocently.

"Of course!" The other girl clasped her hands together and heaved a sigh. "As Kyo-kun's future wife, I should be the one to rescue him from the clutches of this dark sorcerer. My love for him will—"

Keero cracked one eye open and glared at his mistress. "Bwee."

"All right, all right!" Kagura stuck her tongue out at her pet. "What about you, Tohru-kun? Who did _you_ mean?"

Tohru gazed into the fire, listening to a warm, gentle voice in her mind.

_I remembered you, Honda-san. I always will._

"Kyo-kun," she answered slowly. "Rit-chan. And…Yuki-kun."

"Yun-chan?" Kagura raised an eyebrow. There had been something in the way that Tohru had spoken his name.

"He's waiting for me…Yuki-kun…" And in the next moment, Tohru was fast asleep.

Kagura stared down at the sleeping girl, watching the slight rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. _I wondered about you_, she thought. _Ever since Aya-chan told me about you.__ I wondered what kind of person you would be. You survived the cursed forest, demons, a dark sorcerer. You found my Kyo-kun for me. I expected strength, power, cunning, and yes, even insane amounts of luck. But I didn't expect _faith

She added another stick to the fire, then curled up on the ground with her head on her folded-up cloak. Outside, the wind had picked up, blowing up from the Deadlands and carrying with it traces of foulness. But for the first time, Kagura could almost swear she could detect the faint, salt-tinged scent of the distant sea beneath the odor of corruption.

_A faith so strong it could change the world._

She was a step closer to her goal. She knew Kyo was alive, that he could be saved. Still, tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would bring, and Kagura had learned to count each tomorrow only as they became today. But the funny thing was, as much as the knowledge of Kyo's whereabouts meant to her, it still wasn't what mattered most.

Tohru suddenly raised her head again. "Eh? Does that mean Kagura-san is older than I am?"

She glanced over at her in surprise. "Er, yes."

But Tohru had already gone back to sleep.

Kagura blinked, then smiled. "Not alone, Tohru-kun," she whispered.

_Not alone anymore._

Then she closed her eyes and let the velvet darkness claim her at last.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Aaaugh! Gomen, that was so loooOOOooong, wasn't it? A lot of the chapters of Book 3 are going to be a bit long, as there's so much to explain. But thank you, thank you, thank you for still reading it.

Oh, and, um, I did mess with the chapters somewhat. I took out the author's note, so chapter 34 became...er, still chapter 34. I guess in hindsight I shouldn't have done that. Sorry about that.

And thank you and lots of love to all of you who still read and reviewed. (I can't believe how patient you guys are.) Raberba girl, RJunkie (love you too ), Milkflavoured, animefreak (who's been prodding me with the literary version of a sharp gardening utensil--thanks, I needed that!), 3xThreat, Body by Gen, shardingtoby and all the rest of you, thank you so much!

Oh, and to RJunkie: I have to admit, the stone guardians mentioned in the last chapter do seem a bit irrelevant, but have faith. All will be explained in time. (Cue dramatic thunder) Anyway, it's my fault because with my rate of updating a lot of you have already forgotten the story and it's such a bother going back to reread the chapters. But the stones are all part of it, don't worry, ne? And I won't tell you when Yuki'll come in again because that's a surprise. (Cue maniacal laugther)

Once again, thank you so much, minna!


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